Titanic
by Lavyrle Elizabeth
Summary: They called her the ship of dreams... it was. It really was. Aboard the Titanic, Elizabeta Hedervary and Gilbert Beilschmidt met. They are worlds apart but eventually found each other. To commemorate the 100 years of Titanic. April 10 - 15, 1912 - 2012. Story to be concluded in April 15, 2013. New chapter up :)
1. April 10, 1912

**Titanic**

_They called her the ship of dreams... it was._

_April 10, 1912_

"Isn't the ship marvelous, Elizabeta?" Baroness Hedervary commented as she eyed the majestic ebony ship bearing the imprint _Titanic_ on its sides. The railings glinting as sunlight stroked each surface, nook and cranny, it is without a doubt one of the most glorious ships ever made to accommodate both the air of class and sophistication. That very reason attracts the elite to spend every shilling there is in their coffers. Baroness Hedervary, widow and a good pillar of the ton is no exception. "My, a ship this size might very well give me a two full room for all our luggage! That's great news, isn't it dear?"

Around them people of different statures bustled, all of them jovial for seeing at close range, what the newspapers printed as 'the largest object made by man on Earth' and to board it was a privilege for the elite and a dream for the common folk. Unaware of the various activities occurring around her, the baroness oohed and ahhed alongside constant prattle about the building costs, the influential society patrons and matrons associated with the trip and the prices of rooms, furnishings and tailored suits. Her daughter however want no part of it, and only spared a passing glance to the ship whose descriptions of strength, stability and beauty are roughly exaggerated.

"I don't know what's the fuss is about. It looked quite the same as the Mauritania." Elizabeta Hedervary said, tugging at her magnolia-hued gloves and referring to the ship she and her mother boarded in their trip to Liverpool, England. Her russet hair high and elegantly coiffed, matched with a sea-green pelisse and staunch chocolate taffeta gave her an aura of individuality other girls of her breeding fall short. "I find the exterior simple and uninviting. Its..." Searching for a better word, Elizabeta tilted her head to momentarily ponder, "...quaint."

"Elizabeta, do hush. What do you know about boats anyway?" Her mother chided, hoping her daughter's fiance won't be offended by her daughter's caustic remarks. Baroness Hedervary smiled, her three top tooth crooked and tried to exhibit coy eyes. "Forgive my daughter Francis. You do know what goes on the minds of young women these days. Usually parties and soirees and evening ball-"

"I'm thinking of no such thing." Elizabeta retorted, wrapping her spring shawl tighter to her neck. "I simply just can't see why we have to get on this ship. Its very well the same as any other." To her mother's surprise, she produced a copy of the local Southampton newspaper and read its headlines. "Good and ready to sail, the unsinkable Titanic." Elizabeta emphasized the word 'unsinkable' as she whirled around, left brow arched and her voice incredulous. "Surely no ship can exist."

"Elizabeta, dear." The baroness' voice, strained. She looked at the young man near her left elbow and tried to explain. "Francis, her...inquisitiveness..."

Francis Bonnefoy, six and twenty and fiance of the Hedervary heiress whose earlier comments when heard would surely make anyone gasp only laughed and dismissed plausibly, "...is one of her charm points." He supplied to Elizabeta, "Its a hundred feet longer than Mauritania, _ma chere_.

The baroness expelled a breath of relief. Good thing that Bonnefoy can put up with her daughter's unpredictable tempers! "Now, now Elizabeta. You heard your fiance..." Her daughter paid her no mind. Elizabeta called for her personal maid and immediately took steps near the stairs leading to the doorway of the ship. Her mother followed her stiff back with a look of dismay.

"Your daughter's being a challenge. Pleasing her gets harder everyday." Francis, noting his fiance's mother's worried frown soothed albeit indirectly, "Must be a Hedervary trait."

Baroness Hedervary curved her thin lips, as if agreeing.

"God himself couldn't sink this ship." Bonnefoy commented as he took the baroness in his elbow. He fished his watch on his waistcoat pocket. His brows knitted together after reading the time: 11:45 A.M. Its almost time.

"We better hurry."

* * *

"Are you sure you know how to play poker, son?" Carlos Machado, a twenty-four year old Cuban bartender at Tartan Plaid pub asked nineteen-year old Gilbert Beilschmidt across the counter with a worried tone. In front of him are four men playing poker. During his observation, he can well say it was his friend Gilbert who was more inept of the four. You can also count Antonio, if he isn't simply clumsy at cards.

"You've been losin' all yer stacks on ev'ry round, methinks you should stop." Carlos' slang-and-sailor accent was thick and heavy, especially in rolling the Rs. "Methinks you'll also lose your inn key if you kept gamblin' all yer money." He polished a wine glass and looked on the game. The round's just finished and a lanky man with curly hair just won 25 shillings with his winning hand.

The young Gilbert rolled his shoulders and backhanded his nose. He winked at Antonio and declared confidently. "Nah, we'll win."

Antonio scratched his head and expelled a deep breath. "I keep on dropping my cards. We'll lose the next round." With both palms up, he apologized. "I'm sorry Gilbert. I'm not a gambler."

"We got nothing, so we have nothing to lose right?" Gilbert reasoned lamely and tugged his friend again back to his stool. Antonio muttered a _Dios Mio_ under his breath but he readied his hand for the cards.

"Another round, Beilschmidt?" Kyle, a foreign lad much younger from Gilbert with rounded eyes and a fast dealing hand taunted as he shuffled cards. He grinned menacingly and smiled with an underlying meaning at his companion Florian, who won the earlier round, "Be ready though. I'm aiming for your inn key just like what Carlos said."

Gilbert pounded the table and voiced, "And prepare to cry boys once you lost your two third class tickets."

"We're going to suck you two dry," Florian dared to jest.

Antonio didn't know what to say.

They dealt the cards. Sometimes both parties would spare glares and snappish words at each other. At times they would pipe down and study their cards. After fifteen minutes, Gilbert said to his companions at the table. "Somebody's life's about to change." Gilbert looked at his friend Antonio.

"I lost." Antonio showed his card and indeed there's not even one pair.

"Florian?"

The asked slammed his cards with enough force to tipple a bottle of whiskey from another table. "Damn, none!"

Gilbert eyed Kyle squarely. "You?"

Kyle fanned his two pair with pride. "How's this Beilschmidt?"

"A two pair, huh." Gilbert looked back at his cards and after a moment's deliberation, settled his gaze at his friend Antonio.

"I'm sorry we won't have a room in this inn tonight." Gilbert whispered contritely.

Antonio, his shoulders slumped, eyed the keys Gilbert thrown earlier to gamble and shook his head. "Nah. Maybe we can bunk down with Carlos at house for tonight." Antonio looked at Carlos for a reply and the man gave a thumb's up. "See? No need to worry."

"No, no." Gilbert straightened and patted his friend on his shoulder before dropping his cards. "I'm sorry because we won't be sleeping here tonight." His face took a different mood and suddenly he stood up. Gilbert showed mellowed teeth and shouted, exuberant, "Cause, we're going to America, baby!" He yelled the words and woohooed, raising his hands to the heavens. He hugged his friend and kissed both his cheeks. It was followed by a long string of happy German expletives. Antonio was still shocked and is rooted to the ground while Carlos was chuckling behind a rum decanter.

At the table Kyle and Florian looked at Gilbert's full house dumbfounded. "Y-You cheated." Kyle accused. Gilbert patted him on the back, not one bit sorry. "You just had a bad hand this round, Kyle. Too bad huh?" Gilbert got his satchel and tugged Antonio along with him, who in turn grabbed the tickets from the table. "Let's go!"

Together, the friends dashed through the sea of people. Women. Men. Children. All smiling. Gilbert and Antonio ran as if their lives depended on it. Toward the entrance where they showed their newly-earned tickets that just five minutes ago was not theirs to begin with. To board the prided Titanic on her twelve o clock maiden voyage. Exhausted, they searched for room 360.

"Gilbert, if you can do a full house, why do you keep losing earlier?" Antonio asked while running neck-and-neck with his friend in search of their bunk. They found it after five minutes and closed the door. Gilbert pulled a black sock from his satchel and donned it. He smiled sheepishly, "Its called strategy." He opened his muddied shirt and said proudly, "Now, aren't we the luckiest sons of bitches in the world?"

And for the first time, Antonio swore in a language very near his own. "Bastardo."

* * *

_Elizaveta Hedervary and Gilbert Beilschmidt... just what does the ship of dreams have in store for them?_

* * *

They called her the ship of dreams... it was.

It really was.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **April 10, 1912. The sailing of the Titanic. Its maiden voyage that after five days, the 15th of April sank at the bottom of the Atlantic.

To commemorate the 100th year anniversary of the tragedy, upon many seen requests, I did a fanfiction concerning the event-Hetalia style. Surely some would've already read the doujinshi comic of Hetanic (Titanic made Hetalia on or perhaps in Youtube).

I'll be uploading chapters for five days, just like the duration of the original Titanic. The story is heavily based on the movie and comic with a touch of my own.

Enjoy reading.


	2. April 11, 1912

**Titanic**

_They called her the ship of dreams... it was._

_April 11, 1912_

"Captain?" Second-in-command Feliciano Vargas disturbed his captain's musings as he handed a steaming cup of morning lemon tea. His mahogany hair with tinted red highlights was underneath a white cap. His uniform is spotless and ironed neat. Sure in himself that he was well presented in front the ship's highest command officer, Feliciano reported, "We're heading the Atlantic route with our 21 knots. Our current location is west of Ireland."

The captain, taken by surprise recovered quickly and gave a nod. Gladly, he accepted the offered cup and smiled on the flock of birds squawking overhead, dotting the six o clock sky. Facing the horizon, his critical eye ran over the pale enchanting hues Aurora brushed her skies with: crocus and lemon, lavender and plum.

"Weather?"

"Clear, captain."

The captain laughed, assured. "Spoken like a true sailor."

"There's a sea chant sailors take within themselves concerning the winds: 'Red sky at night, sailors' delight. Red sky at morning, sailors take warning.'" Feliciano leaned his weight on the metal railing. "No hint of red."

Ludwig faced his long-time friend and raised the cup to his lips. "A blessed day to wake up to after the sailing." The two comforted themselves as they recall yesterday's strenuous activities and together they settled unmoving at the entresol of the ship, anticipating the full rising of the sun from its blanket of pearly mile-wide ocean.

* * *

The china was polished with extra care today for the influential filled the first class dining rooms. The curtains were changed overnight in favor of lighter colors. The glass windows were opened to welcome the comforting winds and air the rooms. Chicken, pork and lamb was served alongside spicy dips and sauces. Enough port was taken out to prepare for the gentlemen and sweets are stacked in open-mouthed glass bottles to be eaten by highly-bred daughters and sons. A La Carte restaurant and Cafe Parisien are working double time to cook for all passengers. The kitchen was busy and the smell of warm and fresh food invited every person who manage to pass by the doorway, may it be a kitchen staff or a server.

"Elizabeta, smile. Your grandmother, bless her forbidding soul can smile better than that from her grave." Baroness Hedervary scolded as she and their daughter dined with the genteel. "You are with respectable pillars and aboard the prestigious Titanic. What more can you wish for?"

_Freedom. _

_To live as I choose. _

_To think decisions of my own. _

"Fix that face of yours. Francis is watching you."

_To choose someone I love._

"Titanic, titanic, titanic. Must I always hear this ship's name?" Elizabeta sipped her lemonade. "There are other topics of interest possible of discussion." She released a pent-up sigh filled of frustrated thoughts.

"Elizabeta," her mother's tone heightened a notch, "you and Francis are to marry in New Orleans. The invitations amounting to 500 are already sent. We must make it to Baton Rouge post-haste to fit the pre-ordered wedding gown I chose in a catalogue back at Liverpool. Titanic's the fastest convenient bet. Once Titanic docked in New York, you will meet Francis' father again and you must present yourself as his fiancee worthy of carrying his name, understood?"

Elizabeta said nothing and waited for the waiter to settle the food. It was sauteed lamb chops, buttered quail breast and genuine champagne. After her mother's dramatic soliloquy, appetite already fled her. Still, she tried to eat.

A middle-aged tea-and-crumpets gentleman, unaware of the whispered conversation that happened between mother and daughter added irony, "Baroness Hedervary, may you give me leave to compliment your daughter's beauty. Her face was fetching."

"Why, thank you. That was gracious, kind sir." replied the baroness as if it was her who was complimented.

Across the ladies, the gentlemen are absorbed discussing the possibilities of profitable business ventures they can invest in in America.

"What do you think Mr. Bonnefoy?"

"I think flour, sugar and the basic commodities will bring money. People are migrating into the land and surely sooner or later, they will lack supplies." He paused to chew buttered quail and immediately swallowed it. "The lands of America will provide a fortune to any railway tycoon or enterprising merchant. Any business will prosper." Proudly he added, not for the benefit of his fellow gentlemen's ear but to the ladies too. "My family was one of those who did."

After Francis' lengthy opinion, a notion entered Elizabeta's head. "Who thought of the name Titanic?" She dared asking to comply to what is expected of her. "Was it you Mr. Honda?"

"No, it was not me miss." The slit-eyed young architect of the Titanic shook his head, disappointing its asker.

"Who then?" Elizabeta's lips curved as her interest was piqued over a single pondering. "Was it in reference to Greek mythology?" The girl, a reader of books and fanatic of the arts waited patiently for an answer. Everyone on the table quieted as if a third class groped in their midst. The gentlemen unaccustomed of having a learned and wise female in their table eyed her warily. The baroness, aware of them being uncomfortable signaled help to her daughter's fiance.

"Curious isn't she?" Francis chuckled as he gave Elizabeta her second helping of lamb even though her plate was still half-filled. "You like lamb don't you, _doucette_?" Elizabeta got the message on the table occupants' silence and spoke no more, being like that the entire meal.

* * *

"Titanic. Its the largest moving object ever made by the hand of man in whole history." someone changed the topic and brought the ship in discussion again. "882 feet and six inches in length, with eleven decks completed of all necessary accommodations. All thanks to master shipbuilder Kiku Honda." Everyone applauded.

"I am only the naval architect, sir." Kiku humbled himself from the praise. "I first received the order and design September 17 of 98'. The ship's route is from Southampton to New York City."

"White Star Line was adamant of producing a fine quality ship that would put its close competitor Cunard to shame." Francis joked and laughter bubbled.

"Ah. Possibly."

Seated on the right at the rear, Kiku Honda checked his pocket watch for the time. 12:48 P.M. "Excuse me gentlemen." His smile was apologetic. "I shall avoid port for today. Have a pleasant afternoon." He went out of the room in casual steps, measuring his stride if it look like as if he was hurrying to get away from the other table occupants. Kiku fanned his face as he turned left from the main corridor.

And breathed a sigh of relief.

Politics and business are not his forte and will never be. He find lunch with the rich and powerful stifling and never relaxing. Money and business are rarely devoid in the ton's conversations. Discussions of wealth and business transactions are not complicated back in his homeland, unlike in what happens in a European dining room.

Suddenly he felt a pang of nostalgia.

"Tired, Mr. Kiku?" A svelte lady in lopsided French twist questioned him as she bowed. Her red concoction of faille over and underskirt with trimmed black Mechlin lace sleeves complimented her European coloring. Her lashes are long and frames her eyes that are the color of mellowed indigo. She is undoubtedly a first class lady. Kiku have never seen her before.

"Or is it Mr. Honda?"

"The latter, my lady." Kiku tipped his hat in respect, a European custom engraved permanently in his being during his stay in England. "How may I be of service? Is there anything you need Miss...?" He trailed off.

"Lefevre." The woman supplied, smiling as she offered her black gloved hand. "Melisande Lefevre."

"Miss Lefevre." Kiku shook her hand. "I believe its our first time to be introduced."

"And in my own free will Mr. Honda." She replied back "A nice day isn't it?"

"Yes it is." Kiku admired the one o clock sea. "A fitting hour for a stroll along the deck."

Melisande offered her elbow and invited. "Shall we?"

Kiku complied and together they took in the sights the deck offered. From a distance a man and woman was having a friendly conversation. Near the railings a child was reading a storybook while sitting Indian style in a lounge. A young man was playing with his friends a short run of poker. Across the corridor, a young maid was balancing two chilled juleps in a steel tray.

"I am most curious about this ship you designed sir." Melisande started conversationally as they walked unhurried. "I believe it was the largest one ever built, yes?"

Kiku nodded and supplied, "She was constructed in Belfast under the request of White Star Line. RMS Titanic, yard 401 is an Olympic-class ocean liner and was completed last week second of April. Harland and Wolff was instructed to build her for the company trusts their work, dating their acquaintanceship back in 1867. She could carry a total of 3,339 people."

"That many?" Melisande's eyes rounded and Kiku smiled at her shock. Melisande looked at him in the eye and realized something: they are of the same height.

"You are of Asian descent aren't you Mr. Honda?"

Kiku nodded. "You must've have noticed my small height."

Melisande clasped her fingers nervously while her left arm is still looped with his right. "Did I insult you?"

"No. Not at all."

"What brought you here to Europe?" Melisande asked, changing the flow of discussion. Curious now.

"Back in my country I designed ships. They're smaller yes, just right to be ridden and strong to withstand waves and unexpected winds. I kind of made my own name and White Star Line recruited me after seeing potential."

"Is that so? And you settled here because of the good paying wage?"

"Exactly."

"Family, Mr. Honda." The lady inquired, delving into personal grounds. "Do you still have family?"

But Kiku doesn't seem to mind. "Yes. Three brothers and a sister to be exact."

"Fascinating."

Kiku eyed the beauty beside him. Her silken hair and merry mouth are undeniably attractive. A young woman like her couldn't possibly boarded the ship without proper chaperone. "What about you Miss Lefevre? Any brother keeping an eye on you?"

She laughed, amused. "I do have a brother. But he's not with me. He's with my sister back at Marseille."

"Why the trip to America?" Kiku was puzzled now.

"To find a prospective husband."

It was all Kiku can do not to widen his eyes. "All alone you sailed?"

"Yes." Melisande grinned. "Just because I'm a lady doesn't mean I can't protect myself."

"Despite your appearance I never knew there was an adventurous spirit within you, Miss Lefevre."

"Melisande." She revealed charmingly, attracted by his bright mind.

"Kiku." He replied amiably, entranced by her free spirit.

"What a short name."

"And yours a mouthful."

Together they laughed, bonding a friendship.

* * *

"This ship is nice." Antonio commented as his eyes roved around the deck. The sun is near bidding adieu to its throne from the heavens. The railings that got too warm between one o clock to four o clock have eventually cooled. The breeze held the taste of sea salt and the gentle ripples of the water made by Titanic's gliding movements are a pleasure to hear from the decks.

"Nice? Its more than nice!" Gilbert remarked, ecstatic. "Its like a mansion floating."

Third class passengers swarmed like flies on the decks. After long hours of being cooped inside their bunks everyone are excited to explore the liner that will very well fulfill their dreams once they reached mainland America. Antonio and Gilbert shared everyone's gaiety as they admired the brass bells and the floorboards that can possibly be mahogany or teak. Across them, a tall young lad of seventeen years noticed their preoccupation with the ship's buildings and features and decided to straightforwardly introduce himself.

"Lovino Vargas." The chestnut-haired youth with a ragged shirt and sun-bleached trousers offered a hand. "Welcome to the ship of dreams. A beauty ain't she?" Gilbert shook his hand and added, "We're on board with the royals, aren't we boys?" Antonio on the other hand simply shook the boy's hand accompanied by a silent honest grin.

"So..." Lovino remarked as he enjoyed the noon ocean breeze. "What made you two ride this ship?"

Antonio and Gilbert eyed each other and in chorus answered, "You first."

"Boarded to search for my fratello who my old grandpa stowed with him on America."

"Where are you from?" Gilbert questioned as he opened his sketchbook and poised his pencil.

"Italy."

"Venice?" Antonio prodded.

"_La Serenissima_?" Referring to how Venetians call their city. "No. South. I live near the boot."

"Naples then." Antonio guessed.

"Nailed it." Lovino bared a wolfish grin.

"Now, how about you two? Why board Titanic?"

Antonio answered first. "To find new life in the land of milk and honey." His eyes took a faraway gleam. "Spain was humid and hot. Barcelona. That's where I was born. I grew up there and lived there for fifteen years. The place was fine. I had both of my parents. I thought everything is fine the way it is. Sadly, they died I had none. I was an only child and there was no near relatives. It was like I was all alone in a sudden and there's no one to turn to. I wandered from place to place. I worked as a trimmer in some passenger boats when I was sixteen." Antonio crossed his legs and continued, "I tried all jobs you can imagine: barber, assistant librarian, sign boy, cook, waiter. I moved farther and farther away from home. Maybe because I don't want to remember the happy memories of my past and compare it to the present bleak ones. Possibly, I just don't want to feel sorry for myself."

Antonio's face floundered for a moment but then he managed a smile and narrated, "I met Gilbert one cicada afternoon in Strasbourg, France. I saw him sketching people with an intense look in his eyes. I went near him, talked to him about sketching my family. I tell you, this man is an artist." Antonio patted his friend on the shoulder, pride in his voice. "Even though I only described my mama and papa, he got their likeness on paper."

"I'm glad you liked it, Antonio." Gilbert's eyes crinkled at the corners as he momentarily closed his sketchpad. "What happened to that drawing now that I remembered it."

"It was in my satchel, _amigo_." Antonio grinned. "I kept it after two years."

"What about you Gilbert?" Lovino turned his inquisitive gaze at Gilbert who at the moment was enthralled sketching a small girl with a purple ribbon in her hair. He went on telling his story without turning his eyes away from his subject.

"I'm originally from Berlin. German. My father brought me up single-handedly. Never knew who my mother was. Never bothered asking.

"I've been to America before. Was in Wisconsin. It was our first time, my Dad and I. Gawked at the steel train too if I recall." Gilbert chuckled as he plucked an eraser at his back pocket. "My old man got an offer to work in a coal factory. I remember nights wherein I was washing the dishes and my father would go home with his face black as black coffee. The place's so cold too. If you aren't careful, frostbite's out to get ya. Life went on like that for five months. We survived somehow. Then we moved in Mississippi. Liked it there. The sun was warm and there are corn stalks as far as the eyes can see. We planted cotton for a plantation owner. I was eleven that time. Turned out I stayed in America for two years."

"Why did you get back?"

"Going back here in Europe isn't our choice either. The plantation where we worked was burned and many workers was suspected, my father included. My father immediately boarded a ship to escape. While on the sea though, he got the yellow fever. He died two days after we docked on England. I've been living by sketching and gambling since and relying on helping hands while following life on its course. Ever since thirteen."

"A gypsy in other words." Lovino put on in archaic terms.

"Yeah, phrasing my life in a romantic way."

"You won't be found?" Antonio pondered worriedly.

"Nah. The plantation owner only record the names of adult workers, not that of their children."

"One from Berlin and one from Barcelona," Lovino crossed his arms and asked, "How did you two land on England when you met?"

"Oh, we had our ways." Gilbert tightened his suspenders. He squinted his eyes and measured the degree of lighting from his angle with his pencil. "We met in Strasbourg. Did everything together since then. Tried all jobs there is and I still continued to sketch portraits ten cents a piece. We live pretty decently."

Gilbert stopped narrating and Antonio looked at him, perplexed. "Oh, Gilbert. Not again."

"Come on, you tell him."

"Why is it always me?" Antonio sighed and scratched his head. "How we got to England? Well... Gilbert and I became a bunch of stowaways in a train in Calais."

Lovino's eyes rounded. "Stowaways?"

"Shhh!" Gilbert covered Lovino mouth. "Someone might hear you!"

Lovino wiped his mouth and fended Gilbert off. "No way."

"Its true."

Lovino still looked unconvinced but decided to drop the subject off. "Once we land on New York, where will you go."

"I'll go to Santa Fe." Antonio thought in his head and approved the idea. "Someone said before that the place was like my homeland. Latin Americans are Spanish-influenced afterall. Maybe I can blend in."

He asked the Italian in turn. "Lovino?"

"There's no specific in mind. Maybe I'll drift with you guys afterall."

"Welcome." Gilbert laughed and closed his sketchbook. He finished one portrait for today. That's enough. "I have nothing on me. All I have is wallet of cheap change and a satchel of soiled shirts and wrinkled trousers with suspenders. I boarded this ship with a dream and nothing more. Wherever life will lead me, I'm facing it head-on." Gilbert looked up the first class' railings. Antonio and Lovino immersed themselves in their own conversation.

And a sight made him catch his breath.

A vision in flowing muslin. Tall and fair-skinned. Her hair was pinned on one side with a flower clip, her nose in profile, her lips exquisite and heart-shaped. She wore a long dress reaching to her knees and it billowed in every step of the wind. Cheekbones high and with determined jaw, her eyes of deep Spanish moss hue was the lady's most arresting feature. Anyone who would've encountered such eyes...

Who was she? Gilbert asked himself as he found himself attracted to her air of loneliness.

"...and that's pretty much what transpired that night in Tartan Plaid, right..." Antonio noticed that his friend spaced out.

"Gilbert?_ Dios Mio_, Earth to Gilbert."

"_Che palle_. Oy."

Antonio and Lovino followed Gilbert's gaze.

"Oh."

The two of them looked at each other, a playful smile tugging both their lips.

"Look at that beauty! Just what you'd expect from first class."

Gilbert snapped back from his preoccupation with the lady at the railing and stood up. "What's that got to do with it?"

Lovino and Antonio looked up the skies and whistled lamely, "Nothing."

* * *

Elizabeta Hedervary was different than most. She was outspoken and adventurous. She was one who never rely on others. She is strong and carefree and very much a dreamer in her own way. Her eyes and facial features are soft, but inside her is a woman with a metal backbone. Others mistake her as someone with a light temperament when in reality, it was the opposite. Her quietude and air of grace is usually times in the drawing room wherein it boils within herself the unfairness of life.

The Hungarian Hedervarys are a second-class lineage where musicians usually came from. In one visit of a Hedervary in England, a duke gave his title of baron in gratitude of saving his life when his horse bolted. The transfer of title was not recognized at first for the person who acquired it was not English. However, it turned out that the duke who gave the title was incapable of bearing any sons or daughters. The Hedervarys however never fails to produce a children in a family and somehow the duke merged his family with the Hedervarys, linked by title. The Hedervarys eventually prospered.

However in Elizabeta's time, her family's coffers have slimmed down. Their money turned out to be squandered by her father in gambling. Thus a marriage between the Hungarian Hedervarys and French Bonnefoys are arranged.

Elizabeta was never given the chance to say her own opinion.

There are times wherein she want to say, 'Why don't you marry her yourself, Mother!'. But she never had the courage.

"Don't jump miss."

Elizabeta whirled her head around and saw a man very much near her age looking at her and warning her not to jump. His hair looked like he was sleeping for a while. His leather boots are dirty and smeared with mud and dust. He had dark blue long-sleeved shirt that had a patch near the collar. His clothes is something not suitable for today's evening chill. "Don't do it."

"Don't come any closer!" Elizabeta shouted, scared. "I'll let go!" She threatened.

"Don't get in my way!" She heard the ripples of water from the starboard. She felt chills crawling down her spine.

"If you were serious you would've done it already."

"I don't know why you are trying to stop me." Elizabeta went into a monologue of frustrations.

"I can't stand this anymore. Since the day i was born its been the same thing over and over again. My feelings are put aside because of my family's circumstances, how could they marry me off. I want to be free. If that's how its going to be then I'd rather-"

" Hey did you know? The ocean waters at night hurt so much its like dying. I've done it. I was close to death."

"I'm a good swimmer." Gilbert informed, stalling for the while. "Probably because of the accident." He hope the woman would eventually calm down and step back from the railing. "Take it from me. The waters are cold out here."

Elizabeta looked at him and down from below the ship. "How cold?"

"Freezing."

For a while Elizabeta doesn't know what to say.

"I lived in America before." Gilbert creeps quietly everytime the woman would stray his eyes to the starboard.

"Wisconsin?" Elizabeta asked dumbly, forming the picture of the state in her mind.

"Yeah, that place. You got it. Had one of the coldest winters around." Gilbert tapped his feet, shoved his hand into his pockets. "One winter we got nothing to eat, my old man and I. We went to a nearby fishing lake. You can imagine how cold it was."

"I know what ice fishing is." Elizabeta somehow gave a reply.

"Really? That's awesome." Gilbert sneezed and Elizabeta looked at him square in the eye. Gilbert backhanded his nose for he had no handkerchief. "I slipped into thin ice the thin ice. My father immediately dropped our bucket to pull me up. It hurts, being in the cold water. You can't breath. You can't think. All you'll feel is pain. It'll hit you like a thousand knives all over your body." Gilbert finished his narration holding out a calloused hand.

"Hey, are you really going to jump? It'll hurt a hell of a lot." He neared her and her dress, its hems flowing with the sharp wind nearly brushed his boots.

"Come on you shouldn't rush a decision like this."

"Come here. Come. Come take my hand." He smiled and belatedly introduced, "I'm Gilbert by the way."

Elizabeta spared a glance at the waters below. The railing was cold, even with gloves, unlike it being warm in the afternoon. She was cold all over and her lips are trembling. With her green eyes, she took in Gilbert's form. Somehow, with him in front of her, the whole ordeal can be dismissed as foolishness in her part.

"Elizabeta." She gave her hand.

"Good girl." He pulled her to him. With his arms around her and her temple resting at the satiny curve of his neck, Gilbert softly whispered in Elizabeta's ear. "Two words missy: live life. You only have one chance after all." He let her go. "And its even borrowed." He gave a salute as if her stepping off the railing is a brave thing. Funny, she also thought so too.

Gilbert left her then. Elizabeta followed his turned back with troubled eyes.

That marked their first meeting.

* * *

"Elizabeta?" Francis called out at his fiance as he knocked at her door. "Can I come it?" A muffled 'yes' answered and slowly, he opened the door.

Elizabeta's room was painted lemon-and-lime. The smell of turpentine still cling on the walls. Hanged are the cheap paintings of Picasso in which she insisted bringing with her luggage. The room has a lot of space and the bags are all stashed away, all of its contents arranged. Her vanity holds colorful bottles of perfume, bath waters, smelling salts, her hairbrush and clips. A tall vase of flourishing daffodils adds a picture of gaiety on the table. In front of the vanity, is Elizabeta staring at him as he entered through her mirror.

She never told everyone about her attempt of jumping off the ship.

"Are you cold?"

"Its nothing." Elizabeta dismissed it with a wave of her hand. However, all of a sudden, she sneezed for three successive times. Her eyes puffy and her cheeks cold-bitten, she looked at Francis whose eyes are now alight with concern. "I...I guess not."

"I could warm you up." Without leave, he wrapped his arms around her petite waist. He smelled of bay rum and exquisite cologne that she can only guess is expensive and bought in France.

"F-Francis..." she stuttered aware of the intimacy they're sharing.

Francis burrowed his nose into her fragrant hair. "I have something to give you, _ma petite_." After one minute he stood up and met his eyes with hers: Elizabeta's eyes are expectant, waiting.

From behind him, Francis produced a diamond the size of a lady's palm. It was the color of submerged royal azure. It was cut in the shape of a heart. The light of her lamp gave light to the diamond and it sparkled right before her eyes. The play of light made the diamond even more beautiful, its color mesmerizing, its size astounding. Without a single word, Francis clasped the necklace's lock at the nape of her neck. The beautiful jewel hanged at the cleavage of her breasts and it took Elizabeta seconds to realize her mouth was still open and her eyes unbelieving.

"Th-Thi-This is..." She found it hard to speak, amazed at the weight of gem at her neck.

"The heart of the ocean." Francis whispered at her ear as he kissed her temple and patted the hair on her head.

"G-Genuine?"

Francis chuckled. "But of course."

"Its overwhelming." Elizabeta touched the diamond, winking back at her at her mirror. "I...I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say something. You simply need to feel." Francis touched Elizabeta's hand and kissed her fingers, all the while meeting her gaze at her vanity mirror. "Its for the worthy and you are worthy: to be my fiancee, my bride, my wife."

Francis straightened and emphasized, "We are worthy."

"Good night,_ mon doucette_. See you in the morning." And with that he left.

Elizabeta stared at her confused reflection. The weight of the jewel are indeed luxurious but somehow, she couldn't shake the feeling that the necklace can very well be a chain binding her to Francis.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **April 11, 1912. Titanic's first day in the sea.

I gave names to some Hetalia characters that are without official ones.

Melisande Lefevre - **Monaco**

**Why is Monaco emphasized as a character even though she isn't in the comic? **- Melisande Lefevre will take the place of Molly Brown from the movie. Instead of a wife whose husband struck it rich, an heiress of considerable fortune. She will also add depth to the characters as time goes on, like just what she did to Kiku.

Kyle - **Australia**, Florian - **Hutt River**

Amber - **Wy**

So you can imagine who they were talking to.

Enjoy reading.


	3. April 12, 1912

**Titanic**

_They called her the ship of dreams... it was. It really was._

_April 12, 1912_

"Thank you for saving me yesterday Mr. Beilschmidt." Elizabeta declared as she openly shook Gilbert's hand in front of his friends. Gilbert was sketching when she found him and displayed no second thoughts of approaching him. "I owe you."

Around them, the third class passengers are busy enjoying themselves. Some are playing poker, mostly the young men. The women are sharing gossip. The children running and squealing. But Gilbert paid them no mind as he eyed the hand splayed atop his.

"Nah, don't mention it." Gilbert grinned and noted the surprised expressions of Antonio and Lovino. There's going to be a lot of explaining to do. For a while, he regretted Elizabeta's timing. "What pushed you to do such reckless move anyway?"

"I prefer not discussing my plight with others within earshot."

"But you will tell?"

"Yes." Elizabeta said shortly. " Being my savior perhaps I could enlighten you with the knowledge."

Antonio's and Lovino's eyes darted back and forth the two. "Hey, what is she talking about Gilbert?" Antonio shook his friend and whispered. "You've done something heroic?"

Lovino rolled his eyes and breathed sarcastically. "Showing off."

"Eliza-Miss," Gilbert eyed his friends in disgust. "I'll join you on the C Deck."

"Of course, Mr. Beilschmidt." Elizabeta smiled. "Pardon me gentlemen."

And with that, she left. Lovino stared openly at her back and exaggerated the lady's accent, _"Of cos, Mistah Beilschmidt."_ Antonio dared giving an appreciative whistle.

"Are you going to stare at her backside with me looking on?" Gilbert's eyes flashed and slammed his sketchpad at Lovino's face. The youth cursed and fingered his forehead for marks of the spring in the notebook. There was none.

"Sorry Gilbert." Antonio recognized a touched nerve and he scratched his head. "Took us in surprise, that's all."

"Yeah," Lovino sided with with newfound friend. "I mean just yesterday you we're just lookikng at her and now you're in speaking terms with her?" He smirked, which somehow annoyed Gilbert. "_Di Boni_, you move fast."

Gilbert answered in his own. "_Mein Gott_."

"_Dios Mio_." Antonio joined and tried looking at Elizabeta again to where she headed. She's nowhere near anymore. "What did you do?"

"I just saved her that's all."

"Saved her?" Lovino's tone was incredulous. "What kind of saving did you do to make her look at you as if you're kind of hero out of a fairytale?"

"Look boys," Gilbert closed his eyes in irritation. "I'll tell the full details back in our room. For now," Gilbert winked as he put his sketching pencil behind his ear and tucked his sketchbook under one arm. "There's a lady waiting for me."

Lovino and Antonio looked at each other and crossed their arms at Gilbert's retreating back. "Lucky bastard."

* * *

"How did you know my last name?"

Elizabeta whirled around and saw Gilbert walking towards her. His stride are long and purposeful, very much like the firm man that comforted her yesterday. Shocked from the trail of her thoughts, Elizabeta composed herself. "I admit I was at a time looking at you sketch from behind. I saw you drawing and read your signature." She made a move to get his sketchbook. "May I?"

"Sure." Gilbert handed the pad. Elizabeta sat on a lounge chair and he followed suit.

"I see your sketchbook is full of little girls." Her eyes wandered from page to page, turning to have her gaze settle on shaded figures marked on the papers. She smiled as a picture of a pigtailed girl caught her attention. "Little girls indeed."

"I'm not." Gilbert suddenly said. Elizabeta stared at his face and added teasingly, "I'm not asking anything."

"But you're going to. I can tell."

Elizabeta tugged her gloves and felt the weather-beaten paper with her left hand. "Why girls?"

"Oh, masculine appreciation for beautiful things." The way Gilbert said it made Elizabeta stare at his eyes. "Once I saw a pretty face, I would draw them and wonder, 'What could've happened if she was a first class lady instead of a third class passenger?' Gilbert motioned the deck and pointed few girls from a distance who are talking to themselves. "Believe me, there are girls out there who look good in a ballgown like you."

"I don't know if you just paid me a compliment or gave me an insult."

"What's the insult there? I mean no harm saying that." Gilbert raised both palms. "You're not the only beautiful girl out here."

He didn't exactly called her beautiful but in her head it sounded like he really did. Elizabeta looked down back at the sketchpad, a little embarrassed for what she was thinking.

While perusing the drawings, she came across a soft-eyed girl. The girl was looking at someone, with her face upturned. Her dress was simple and her hands held no gold ring. But in her eyes there was an unexplained emotion shining, very much making her face radiant. The little girl was small and petite, about five feet in height. Her hair was simply tied on the side with a ribbon. A sweet and gentle smile graced her lips and made Elizabeta wonder if the person beside the girl could've been someone very special.

"This girl."

"Hmmm?" Gilbert raised his eyebrow, looking at Elizabeta.

"She's..." Elizabeta trailed off, not knowing what to say.

"In love." Gilbert said _love_ as if its the most frequently used word in the dictionary.

"Really?"

"She is." Gilbert looked at the portrait too. "Beautiful isn't she?"

Yes, the girl is very beautiful. "You're amazing Gilbert." Elizabeta breathed as she gave the sketchbook back. "You see people in ways other people can't see them."

"I do portraits ten cents a piece." Gilbert advertised jokingly.

For the first time, Elizabeta laughed in his company.

Her laugh was different from the others. It was devoid of pretense, of coyness. Unrestrained. Merry. Her eyes lights up and makes her verdant eyes sparkle. _Mein Gott_, he thought in himself, the woman has a dimple in her left cheek!

Gilbert Beilschmidt was enchanted.

"Why on the Titanic, princess?"

Elizabeta's laughter stopped and met his eyes. Princess? Did she hear it right? Princess? Hearing Gilbert say the endearment makes her feel very much like one.

"Well," Elizabeta gathered her muddled thoughts. "I'm aboard the Titanic with my mother and fiancee. We are sailing to America for I'm to be married at New Orleans." Elizabeta doesn't know the reason but suddenly she felt as if she hates having a fiancee. "I'm engaged to a man named Francis Bonnefoy."

"With a name like that he must be rich." Gilbert commented.

"He is. He's heir to an oil business in America."

"Filthy rich."

"We prefer the term, _immensely wealthy_."

"Whatever you say Princess," Gilbert got his pencil behind his ear and twirled it. "He's still rich."

Elizabeta ignored his taunting statement and continued, "Anyway, he told my family that we won't be living in France. He persuaded us to sail across the Atlantic and to be married at New Orleans. It was arranged and I've already met his parents, which is perfect, but I still have to present myself properly once we docked. It was as if we are predestined for my mother deliberately had me learn French for our meeting."

"Are you English Elizabeta?" He's very free of her name and Elizabeta just recently realized that. Somehow, she didn't hate it.

"Hungarian." She smiled. "And _you_ Mr. Beilschmidt must be German."

"Gilbert."

"What?" Is there a Gilbert nationality?

"Call me by my name, Gilbert."

Gilbert. Indeed the name is easier to the ear, unlike Beilschmidt that makes her conjure an image in her mind of a widower gentleman with a glass of Madeira. "Gilbert then."

"And yes, I'm German." He added belatedly. Elizabeta laughed softly. It relieved a little bit of her tension.

"I had enough of your fiancee." Gilbert waved his hand. "What about your mother?"

"It was actually my mother who arranged our marriage. She said to me that while our family has an honorable title, we have no money." Elizabeta noted Gilbert's raised eyebrows. "My father squandered our money you see. The Bonnefoys struck it rich in America and so it was a good match. Hedervarys has a title of baron and the Bonnefoys has the money."

"Your mother sound like an ambitious woman."

"Yes." Elizabeta nodded. " Yes she is."

"Is that why you almost jumped? Because of your engagement?" Is that why she snapped? Gilbert thought in himself.

Instead of answering his question, she voiced out her feelings about her impending marriage.

"Actually," she started, "I don't know what to feel about the arrangement. It was a good match and he will take care of me I'm sure. Afterall, there's no harm and Francis is really kind. He was raised a gentleman. Besides, I realized its as if even if I have second thoughts, there's no one there to listen, so I always end up not saying anything at all. What else could I ask for anyway..." But she trailed off and a words tinkered from her mind's eye.

_Freedom. _

_To live as I choose. _

_To think decisions of my own. _

_To choose someone I love._

She didn't realized it but she sighed. Gilbert looked at her.

_I'm right here beside you, listening to your sad sighs, wondering if I can do anything... _he wants to say but said instead: "Based on my experience; whenever a child is torn between decisions, its the right time to look up to the parents' example. I've always done that up to now." Elizabeta looked at him then, tearing her eyes away from the sky. "Knew my father's values like the back of my hand and kept it here." Gilbert thumped his chest.

His father sounds like a wonderful man. "Tell me about your father, Gilbert."

"My father married my mother for love." Gilbert smiled as he gripped the railings of the Titanic. He asked one time, but only one time for his father was very vague. "Saw her in a local dance. Asked her for one. They did." He paused, remembering a time he took his father's hand when he was eight years old and danced with him in their shabby bungalow, boy that he is. Indeed, no foot is a light as his father's. Even girls are no match. The memory brought a bittersweet smile on his lips. "Courtship followed afterwards and eventually they got married. It was happy...at first."

"One time I was running an errand for my father, I overheard from the rumormongers that my mother ran away with another man, right after I was born." Gilbert ignored Elizabeta's gasp. "Said she can't take care of a child, that she can't be a mother."

"That's awful."

"Its more than awful. My father was heartbroken. He never married again. Was scarred and scared after the experience. I loved my old man for combatting his vulnerabilities and I often wondered how could someone throw one's love away as if its nothing." Gilbert stopped and leaned his weight in one hip. "What about your mother, Elizabeta? Did she marry for love?"

Elizabeta shook her head. "Everytime father's home, my mother would don black as if to spite him. They're hardly a match made in heaven. Theirs is a marriage of convenience, nothing more."

"Is that all you can say about them?"

"Sadly, yes."

They quieted for a while letting the ocean whisper in their ears.

"Do you love him?" Gilbert asked as he made shapes of the clouds at the setting sky. "Do you love the man?"

"Pardon?" Elizabeta was taken aback.

"Do you love him?"

"T-T-This," Elizabeta sputtered, "...is not a suitable conversation." She threw her hands. "This is absurd! You are rude!"

The stars have come out now. Gilbert decided to drop the question. He can recognize one who procrastinates and can't answer. Maybe next time.

"Oh no," Elizabeta noticed the stars and closed her eyes. Her hands swept her face. "I have to prepare for the party."

"What party?"

"The First Class party on the A Deck. The influential and elite is going to be there and I have to be with my mother." She started taking steps.

"Sounds like a bore."

Elizabeta's eyes flashed. "Gilbert Beilschmidt, I should resent you for that!"

Gilbert took her arm and firmly gripped it. "You want to go to a real party, come with me."

Elizabeta shook her head. "My mother will be very angry."

"Come on, Elizabeta." Gilbert persuaded, "Its not the first time you're going to make your mother angry."

"It _is_ the first time." Elizabeta persisted. "My mother's from a different branch Gilbert. She isn't like your father."

But Gilbert is unfazed. "Just this one time. Its common knowledge that children are the main reason for parents' headaches but they still love us, right?" He was starting to pull her now. "And that makes them downright awesome."

Elizabeta doesn't know what to say. She was curious yes, on how the Third Class conduct their parties but she also has an obligation as an heiress. Right now, here is a man she only met yesterday but it is as if she knew him inside out already. She looked at the doorway back to his face. Oh, bother.

For once she'll follow her heart.

* * *

Baroness Hedervary was worried and angry. Her daughter is nowhere to be found. Where was that girl when you need her! She was interrupted in her musings when she spotted Francis from the crowd.

"Francis!" she called. Francis excused himself from his associates. "Yes, Baroness?"

"I can't find Elizabeta," The Baroness dramatically fanned herself. "She's not in her room and Amber said her mistress left early and haven't returned since."

"I'll find her. Rest assured, Baroness." Francis turned around and managed to stumble upon a passing lady.

"Pardon _moi, mon petite_." Francis stopped and had a good look on the lady's face.

"Melisande?"

The lady looked up and a smile of warm pleasure filled her face. "Francis!"

The two shook hands and Francis presented his acquiantance to the Baroness. "Baroness Hedervary, I present you Melisande Lefevre. Mel," Francis used the lady's nickname. "Baroness Hedervary."

"A pleasure, _madame_." Melisande curtsied gracefully.

"You are not by chance related to the Monte Carlo Lefevres, are you?" The baroness inquired.

"I am the eldest daughter." Melisande smiled charmingly.

"Where are your parents, Mel?"

"Papa and Mama are on Italy, overlooking our vineyards that was purchased last year." Melisande added, "My brother is with my sister at Marseille. He's the one looking for Papa's casinos at Monte Carlo for a while." She smiled and her movements exuded grace and elegance.

Why can't my daughter be like her? The baroness thought to herself.

"I shall leave you two to chat for I have urgent matters to attend to." Francis took his bow. "Baroness, Mel?"

"Yes, its a pleasure to see you again."

"Ah yes, Francis."

And the Baroness knew exactly what those urgent matters was.

* * *

"I heard of you from Lovino." A short-haired lady in green ribbon occupied the empty seat near Antonio. He looked at her and smiled. He don't know who this girl was but it won't hurt a fly to make friends with her. He scanned to crowd to find Lovino, he was playing arm wrestling his a tall man with windswept hair. "He's a bright lad."

"You with him?"

Emma shook her head. "My brother and I are his roommates." He pointed the man playing with Lovino. "That's my brother."

"I can't place your accent," Antonio said, "Are you French?"

"Belgian."

"Antonio." He showed a roughened hand.

"Emma." She tried to envelop his big hand with her small one.

_She's cute_, Antonio thought as he gave her rosebud lips an appreciative glance.

_He's cute_, Emma said to herself as she eyed his dark eyes that's a warmer version of her own.

While they shook hands, Antonio took the liberty of asking, "Would you like to dance?"

Emma smiled and a blush painted her fair cheeks. "I thought you'll never ask."

* * *

"First class parties can go to hell." Gilbert dragged Elizabeta and offered a tall glass of ginger ale. "This is how we party in third class."

The place was noisy and the loud plucking of stringed instruments by the band fomed by third class passengers can be heard all over the room. They're a lively bunch and every person's gaiety are infectious. Just looking at them makes Elizabeta want to join. My, her feet is pounding the floorboards already!

"So wanna join in?" Gilbert asked as if reading her mind.

"Pardon?" Elizabeta blinked, not sure if she heard him right.

"Dance with me." Gilbert said and was leading her to the floor already. He pulled her close to him and touch her waist and his one blunt-fingered hand took her free one.

"Wait just a minute, where are your hands going!"

"I'll dance with you again little missy." Gilbert said to the little girl Elizabeta realized was sketched in Gilbert's sketchbook. As if to assure the little girl more, Gilbert added, "You're still my best girl, Aimee."

"Beilschmidt, watch it." Elizabeta threatened. Gilbert laughed nervously as she took hold of his collar and tightened her hold on it.

"Now, now Elizabeta," Gilbert whispered in her ears alone, "Surely this isn't your first time to dance. Good ol' Bonnefoy probably showed you a few."

Elizabeta just realized it too. Francis have indeed waltzed with her before and their distance was even closer than proper. Others dismissed it as a young man's eagerness for his prospective bride. However with Gilbert it was different. Every movement of his, the tanned column of his neck, the flaxen-like hue of his hair, she was more aware of them. She just found it out too that Gilbert was shorter of few inches from Francis and that brought his lips closer to her temple and his breathing to her forehead. As the night went on, she became more and more curious of Gilbert Beilschmidt.

The same went with him. As she took short unflamboyant steps, his preoccupation to her being heightened. She was honest and kind and refreshingly innocent. She's unaware of the amazed stares the other third class passengers are throwing at her. She's simply enjoying herself. She drinks like a trooper and her eyes...one can drown in her eyes and will gladly do so.

They danced with smiles shining in their faces unaware they're both thinking of each other.

* * *

"I've found her sir." A tall man reported to Francis.

"Where is she?" The man whispered something in Francis' ear.

"Why in the blazes is she on the F Deck?" Francis raged as he conversed with the man he sent looking for his missing fiance.

"Should we tell the baroness?" Francis was asked.

"No. I'll take care of it." Francis dismissed his companion. "I'll make sure that she's straight and proper in the morning."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **April 12, 1912. Titanic's second day.

Third installment of my version of Titanic-Hetalia.

Enjoy reading.


	4. April 13, 1912

**Titanic**

_They called her the ship of dreams... it was._

_April 13, 1912_

"You'll never behave like that again."

Elizabeta's cup of Earl Grey didn't reach her lips after that statement. She looked over her fiancee. Francis face exhibits an anger that Elizabeta have never seen before. She paused, trying to read if he knew about her going to the Third Class deck.

"W-What do you mean?" She pretended, hoping that his anger is caused by something else.

"What do I mean?" Francis slammed his cup in his saucer. "What do I mean indeed?" With a vile curse Elizabeta never heard passed his lips before, he flung down their basket of bread and plates on the floor. "I heard you are degrading yourself joining F deck passengers and dancing with one breathing cheap ale in your face." Elizabeta looked at the mess from the floor and then to his face. His actions frightene her and if she weren't seated, her knees would've buckled.

"I won't tell the Baroness, Elizabeta." Francis stood up and went near her, their breakfast forgotten. "You need to be more aware of our social position. I can't allow you to do whatever you wish."

He took her chin and neared her face to hers. "You're my fiance. There will not be next time, you hear me?"

"You will honor me just like how a wife honors her husband." He left her there, shocked, frightened and in near tears.

* * *

"He told me not to see you anymore." Elizabeta started as they met on the deck. Earlier, Gilbert greeted her but his voice passed her ears as if she heard nothing.

"What do you mean?" He asked, noting her dejected countenance. What could've upset her so early in the morning?

"Francis," Elizabeta faced her then, but with the same air of sadness. Gilbert realized it was the same when he first saw her. "He knew about us."

"How?" Is it her fiancee causing her distress? Gilbert took in her form this morning. Her shoulders were hunched and her eyes are red and puffy, as if she was crying not too long ago.

"He asked someone to follow me. Francis knew then I was on the F Deck."

"How can you stand this?" For the first time Gilbert wished to know who her fiancee was, so that he can punch the bastard in a gut. "You're going to die sooner or later if you don't breakout."

"He's my fiancee, Gilbert. He had the right to be angry, seeing me cavorting in the night with the third class passengers."

"While you had no right to indulge yourself to happiness?" Gilbert prodded on, trying to reach his points across. "You were happy with me last night, Elizabeta. I saw it. We all saw it." He stopped, clenching his fist to suppress the need of taking her into his arms. "I'm only saying this because I'm worried about you."

"Its not up up to you." Elizabeta avoided hs eyes. "Its got nothing to do with you."

"You're right, but I... you..."

Why does he care so much for her? She has everything she could dream and desire with her fiance. Does he love her then?

Love. That caused his father his heartbreak even to his grave. Gilbert told no one but in the nights they were on board the ship sailing to England his old man has been calling his mother's name. Asking why she left him in favor of another. Why she rejected his neverending love for her over a man whose livelihood is gambling and squandering money.

Gilbert then asked himself. If he really does love Elizabeta, will they end up just like what happened between his father and mother. Will they only find happiness for a while then grew cold with each other?

Somehow, he doesn't want to know.

"Gilbert," Elizabeta touched his face, feeling the warmth of his neck by the back of her hand. "Do you know the poet Lord Tennyson?"

"No."

Elizabeta wrapped her arms around him, in her mind will be the first and last time she will do so, repaying in kind the embrace he gave her when he saved her the first time they met. "'In the spring, a young man's fancy lightly turn to thoughts of love."' She let go now, but without her eyes tearing up a little. "I'm your spring fancy, Gilbert. You thought its love you're feeling with me but its not." She rushed around, trying to reach for the door before she breaks down.

Gilbert looked at the doorknob she was trying to open but fail. Was it only spring fancy he's feeling. If it is, why does his chest hurt? "Should I apologize for liking you?"

Elizabeta slowly turned and then he knew why her hands are trembling and her shoulders shaking violently. Elizabeta Hedervary was crying.

"No for you see, you're my spring fancy, too."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** April 13, 1912 - Titanic's third day in the sea.

This chapter is really short. I really tried, but you see, I went to an anime convention and didn't have any time left. Don't worry I'll shower my lovely supporters details next time.

Thank you for reading my Titanic fanfiction. Your reviews makes me so happy, I don't mind sleeping late and updating in the right days. Just keep reviewing and sharing your thoughts.

Enjoy reading.


	5. April 14, 1912

**Titanic**

_They called her the ship of dreams... it was. It really was._

_April 14, 1912_

"This night's stars is good isn't it?" Antonio admired the twinkling lights on the dark landscape of the heavens above. But in his own, it was nothing compared to his compaion's shining eyes as they followed him suit, looking up also. "Yes it is."

Emma smiled and looked but half the time she was looking at Antonio instead. "Always liked a starry sky."

"They're so near us, its like plucking them is possible." They eyed each other then and laughed, a merry sound.

"I know its still early but I must bid goodbye now," Emma said rather disappointingly. "After staying out late last night." She raised a hand shortly. "Good night."

"Ah yes," Antonio said absentmindedly. "Good night then."

But they both stayed rooted on the spot.

_Is it proper to kiss her? We just met yesterday! _He thought.

_Is it proper to kiss him? He'll think of me brazen!_ She thought.

_She's too beautiful._

_He's too handsome._

_He likes kids and is very hardworking. He'll be perfect as a- Wait a minute what am I saying!_

_She's nimble-fingered and loves embroidery. The role of a mo-Watch it Carriedo! Where are your thoughts leading you?_

_I think I'll never forget the smell of scented violet water and peaches without thinking of her._

_The scent of bay rum and burnished wood will always bring him to mind._

"Emma?" Antonio made a move and took both of her small hands with his. "I'm sorry but I have to do this..."

He kissed her, at last. After a whole day of hesitation in his part, he finally kissed the girl that he very much like seeing at his side. Oh their meeting was abrupt, a whirlwind to be exact, but then Antonio was a type of person who never rush in making a decision. Who wouldn't be serious with a girl who very much can make you think about family? Children sleeping across the hall and a warm set of eyes they'll greet you the first thing every morning. Callused but love-filled hands who will touch your face when you're down and lips the shape of an angel's wings to celebrate your joy? Who indeed but pretty little Emma who is unselfish and kind?

She was caught off guard so much, she didn't know what to do. It was her first kiss after all and while he kissed her with his eyes closed, hers was wide open. She never knew first kisses can evoke many emotions in her chest, such as pouring out of happiness and joy. For the first time she saw her future flashing before her eyes: a bakery that was hers to have and this man behind the counter greeting her a pleasant good morning. Taking care of her sore back after a long day of work and tucking themselves under the blankets for the long nights ahead. She can imagine such scenarios happening...with Antonio by her side.

There's no other word for it: they're both in love.

They broke apart, their eyes glazed and dreamy. "I... I..." Antonio started, groping for the words that won't sound goodbye but only farewell. "I'll see you in the morning."

Emma fingered her lips and looked after his retreating back. He's too shy! "Antonio?"

He stopped but didn't turned around. "Yes, Emma?"

"Think of me tonight."

"No need." He turned around then an voiced unashamedly, "I never stopped thinking about you since yesterday."

He left but not without seeing her face flushed a thousand shades of red.

* * *

"What I just want to say Ludwig, is that Titanic should make headlines again." Feliciano persisted. They're on the railing where they are usually together. "You are commandeering the largest ship ever made." Feliciano smiled. "It'll rise up your name."

"You're taking part of the gossip, Feliciano." Ludwig took a cigar and lighted it. "We sailors should be well aware to not take part of such. Besides..." He breathed a smoke. "...this will be our last voyage."

"There's no harm trying though." But Feliciano dropped the matter now. "I'm glad I'm with you in this trip, Captain."

Ludwig took Feliciano's hands with his and shook it. "We did good together, making the seas our home."

"Once we docked, we're fishing for the ladies this time." They laughed together, their camaraderie warming the night.

* * *

"Your face is red, Emma." Abel welcomed his sister as he opened the door. "Do you have fever?" Abel tried touching Emma's face to feel her temperature. "I'll ask someone for medicine." Lovino volunteered as he went out of the room.

"Emma? What's happening to you?" Abel sat on Emma's bed, trying to make conversation. "Get those blankets off you now. I want to see your face."

"I-I've been..." Emma stuttered underneath the blankets. "...k-k-kissed..."

"What?"

"Don't look at me brother." Emma clutched the blankets tighter to her body. "My face is red."

"That's more the reason to see if you really are alright." Abel was worried now. Its the first time Emma's been acting like this. "Come on, tell me."

"Ive been kissed, brother." Emma confessed, showing a face with bloomed roses on both cheeks. "And it was wonderful." She sighed, as if the whole world was suddenly a very happy place. "I want to do it again."

"W-W-Who..." Abel swallowed, unable to continue for a while. "Who did this to you?"

But Emma just sighed and went under the covers again, muttering deliriously and hugging the pillows closer to her side.

Abel looked at her and regretted, "I should've bought my shotgun."

* * *

"Antonio? Antonio?" Lovino knocked. Instead of Antonio opening the door, it was Gilbert. "Oh, Lovino." He let the youth come inside their room. Lovino eyed his surroundings and spotted Antonio at the lower bunk. But something's not right. "What happened to you?"

"I...I..." Antonio began loudly speaking to himself. He swept his hands on his face. "I kissed her."

"Antonio?" Gilbert looked at his friend and patted his shoulders. "Who?"

"Emma."

Lovino's eyes popped out their sockets. "So that's why."

Gilbert looked at Lovino and asked, "That's why what?"

"Emma's face was red when she came to our room. Abel dismissed it as fever. I'm actually here to ask if there's medicine." Lovino looked at Antonio who's staring into space. "You do _know_ she has a brother, right and that he was handy with a shotgun?"

Antonio nodded.

"_Di Boni_. You have guts."

Gilbert laughed, "I'll leave you two for a while to discuss strategy since it looks like your days are numbered, Antonio." He added, "Good luck." And with that he left.

Antonio raked his hair with his left hand. "_Dios Mio_, I feel like I've debauched her."

Debauched? Lovino tried to stop the grin creeping near his lips. So this is what happens when Antonio was shot by Cupid's arrow. Next, he'll be sprouting Shakespeare soon. Lovino looked outside through room's porthole to check the night sky. He smiled silently to himself.

"Must be the moon. Its full."

* * *

_In the spring, a young man's fancy lightly turn to thoughts of love._

"Lockley Hall." Elizabeta uttered the name of Lord Tennyson's famous composition of poems she read two summers before. Was her plight and Gilbert's just spring fancy? Did she only say that excuse because of Francis being violent? She tried looking at her fiance amidst the crowded ballroom: Francis Bonnefoy is laughing with the other gentlemen. His countenance today is warm and pleasant, unlike yesterday's that is very much a stranger to her.

"You are Elizabeta Hedervary right?"

Elizabeta caught sight of the beautiful lady in a fern-green creation. Her eyes are brimming with gaiety and is a very intriguing hue between ice-blue and lavender. Elizabeta very much admire her beauty and confidence, that is unlike her own for today's party. "And you must be Melisande Lefevre."

"I met your mother yesterday." The two ladies sized each other up, liking what they see. "You retired for the evening because of the heat?"

So that's Francis' excuse is it? "Yes."

"I also heard from Francis you are his fiance." Melisande gave a hand for a shake. "Congratulations."

"You're a friend of Francis, Ms. Lefevre?"

"Yes I am." They walked leisurely. " We met in Paris through our Papas. My father run casinos in Monte Carlo. His father run oil business in Nice, Saint-Cloud and Paris. Mr. Bonnefoy and Francis happened to come to our house in Marseille for dinner. We were introduced and over the years we became friends." Melisande paused as she took two glasses of champagne at a passing waiter. We both studied in Paris so you can very well say I knew Francis half of his life." She whispered a thank you and gave the other glass to Elizabeta.

"What did you think of him then?" Elizabeta sipped the effervescent drink. "Did you happen to have romantic feelings for him?"

"Curious Ms. Hedervary?" Melisande smiled. "As you can see, such questions aren't proper for dining room conversations."

"Oh scoff propriety." Elizabeta dared saying and it made Melisande's eyes to round. "I've been proper all my life its time to converse informally." She added with a secret smile. "We can keep this as a secret."

"You're amazing Ms. Hedervary," Melisande laughed.

"Elizabeta."

"Melisande."

Elizabeta suggested, "Liz."

Melisande countered, "Lis."

They felt giddy together, like little girls. Melisande shook her head. "Mel."

"That's better." Elizabeta nodded in approval.

"Liz, you're unlike the drab character your mother painted you to be at yesterday's party." They finished their drink.

"How did she describe me then?" Elizabeta gathered their glasses and gave it to a passing server.

"Forever proper with impeccable manners."

"A paragon."

"Exactly."

"Sounds like a bore." Elizabeta never imagined Gilbert would be right at such matters. Gilbert. Gilbert indeed.

_Should I apologize for liking you?_

"So tell me, did you have feelings for Francis? You know..." Elizabeta tried explaining, "...special feelings?"

Melisande saw things right through her. "Having cold feet?"

Elizabeta should resent her for that, but there's none. "Would you mind if I'll tell you something?"

"No," Melisande waved a hand. "Go right ahead."

"I met this man...his name is Gilbert. He's from third class." Melisande stifled a look of wonder. "And he saved my life."

"My...Liz," Melisande mused, "How could he have saved your life?"

Elizabeta made sure no one was near before she imparted, "I tried jumping off Titanic on its first day."

"First day?" Melisande contained her amazement. "That was two days ago! What brought you to do such!"

"I just realized I wasn't allowed to choose if I want to be married or not." Elizabeta shared her thoughts. "I accepted the marriage then after Gilbert saved me. Now, this time I really know what's going on in myself. This time its the non-involvement of my feelings with the match." Elizabeta turned to her newfound friend. "That's why I'm asking you Mel," Her eyes roamed Melisande's face. "What are your thoughts about Francis when you are first introduced?"

"To tell you the truth, when I was introduced at Francis, I was actually expecting myself to fall in love him right on the spot." Melisande confessed, making Elizabeta listen. "He was the first boy I ever met. I'm a girl eight years of age, in love with love and he was fifteen, tall and lanky and his locks are a natural." Melisande grinned, reminiscing. "When I was a girl, I was crazy about those locks. Told my father why I have the straights." She spared a look at Francis, who still have his locks, but not as curly as before. She pointed her French braid. "Still are."

"We spent a summer together, two, three. There was none. No sparks, no romance. Nothing." Melisande tilted her head. "He was only a brother, nothing more."

"Bu-but how?" Elizabeta was confused, worried. "How did you know he isn't?"

"Let me tell you another story," Melisande this time truly smiled now, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Two days ago, the same day as yours, I met someone." She was all joy and Elizabeta knew then that the person is exceptional. "His name is Kiku Honda."

Now its Elizabeta's turn to marvel. "Titanic's naval architect!"

Melisande smiled. "Yes. Oh, he was... beautiful Liz!" Her eyes turned dreamy. Elizabeta never knew a person can describe a man beautiful, but she saw that Melisande really meant it. "He was young and all smiles. Charming, kind and bright. I thought he will compliment my dress first before he will introduce himself but he didn't. He downright gave the tipping of the hat. But there was something different with it. I really felt he respected me as a lady than what the other gentlemen do as obligatory." Melisande bubbled, as effervescent as the champagne they drank earlier. "And you know what?"

"Do tell me more, Mel!"

Her voice dropped into a whisper, "While we are walking together the deck, I thought all the time when he would kiss me."

"Oh, Mel!"

Melisande clasped her fingers together. "I just wish he wasn't too shy."

"You're really in love with him."

"Yes, I am."

"How was it different from Francis?"

"The time you fall in love, you'll accept everything about the person." Melisande shared the whispers of her heart. "His traits, characteristics and most especially his flaws. Kiku confessed to me that he doesn't know gamble, politics, and finds it stifling in dining rooms. He avoids port with the other men for he hates champagne." Melisande neared her fingers to her chest. "But that makes him more perfect in my heart." She laughed, "Even if he doesn't have natural curls, I'll love him all the same."

Elizabeta is happy for her friend. "Does he know?"

As if on cue, Kiku entered their line of vision. He was in an obvious hurry to get out of the room. He went immediatley to an open doorway leading outside. "He truly hate this kind of parties." Melisande left Elizabeta. "I'm going to tell him right now."

"Good luck." Elizabeta waved goodbye and was left in her own musings.

Gilbert and her. They've shared two days inside the ship. Became friends even though none of them said a word about it. The way they first met was different than most.

_"Don't come any closer!", "I'll let go!", "Don't get in my way!" _

_"If you were serious you would've done it already."_

He was exasperating when he was trying to persuade her to step away the railing.

_"Two words missy: live life. You only have one chance after all.", "And its even borrowed."_

He purposely stalled time to calm and save her and she was glad for it.

_"Why girls?"_

_"Oh, masculine appreciation for beautiful things.", "Once I saw a pretty face, I would draw them and wonder, 'What could've happened if she was a first class lady instead of a third class passenger?', "Believe me, there are girls out there who look good in a ballgown like you."_

He sees life in the way others don't and make them be reflected in his sketchbook.

_"I don't know if you just paid me a compliment or gave me an insult."_

_"What's the insult there? I mean no harm saying that.", "You're not the only beautiful girl out here."_

And is incredibly clever with words.

_"Based on my experience; whenever a child is torn between decisions, its the right time to look up to the parents' example. I've always done that up to now.", "Knew my father's values like the back of my hand and kept it here." _

He never had a chance to be rich. He was born poor but knew more about life because of it. When his mother took off, instead of being sorry, he took care of his father and himself, being strong in the process.

_"Do you love him?", "Do you love the man?"_

No, she was sure of it now. There was no love between her and Francis. All there is is the arrangement. Does she love Gilbert then?

_"Should I apologize for liking you?"_

And that's then when Elizabeta Hedervary knew the answer.

_"No for you see, you're my spring fancy, too."_

They liked each other and they did phrased it as spring fancy.

_In the spring, a young man's fancy lightly turn to thoughts of love_

The quote can mean another thing: it can mean that what they thought was complicated attraction at first is simply real love. Of course, it was love! Elizabeta smiled within herself. He was always there at her side. The time when her mother was forcing her, her fiancee was pressuring her, Gilbert was always there to make her think twice, to take the other path.

He was always there to save her. Always.

Elizabeta Hedervary made her decision right there and then. Immediately, she went out into the ballroom.

For the second time, she followed her heart.

* * *

"Kiku."

Kiku turned around to find Melisande behind him. She was always beautiful whenever he sees her. Her long golden-wheat braid was always neatly tied and her face was a sight after a long day of obligatory pleasantries.

"Melisande."

Melisande loves the way he pronounces her name. It was a mouthful but the way the syllables roll in his tongue, they sound heavenly. "It has been a long day."

"My plan is to join you today," He looked out to the sea and beyond, "But you were speaking with Ms. Hedervary. Did you enjoy yourself? I saw you smiling like a little girl." Kiku looked at her from the corner of his eyes. "You look charming."

_We were talking about you and how much I learned to love you these past few days._

"I have something to tell you Kiku." Melisande looked at him in the eye. "I think its the perfect time to tell you this...with the nightly breeze passing and the merry music inside the ballroom wafting near our ears and..." She stopped and decided to be courageous. "I think I love you, Kiku."

Kiku very much near dropped his jaw. It was a minute before he realized she was waiting for an answer. It was a shock even to him for back in his country, girls are not as straightforward. "European girls are surprising."

Melisande looked at him, expectant. "Is there a possibility you could love me too?"

She was worried, he smiled silently to himself. "I don't know what to say, for you see I made a pretty nice speech of asking you if you love me but you totally threw me off my feet and the roles are switched." Kiku laughed when Melisande rushed into his arms, her shoulders shaking. "Yes, I love you Ms. Melisande Lefevre and I'm sorry it took a time answering but your prospective groom says yes."

"I kissed a pillow last night because of you." Melisande informed him when her fears subsided.

"You did?"

"While we are on the deck I keep asking myself, 'When is he going to kiss me?' and then before I know it, it will be dinner time and it won't happen at all."

Kiku smiled. "So you turned on your pillow?"

Melisande nodded. "How do you say 'I love you' in Japanese?"

Kiku supplied_, "Aishiteru." _

_"Aishiteru."_ Melisande followed suit.

"What about you Ms. Lefevre? How do you say 'I love you in French?"

_"Je' taime."_

_"Je' taime." _Kiku whispered in her ears.

"Kiku will you let me touch your hair?" Melisande asked. Kiku simply nodded and guided he hand. "It doesn't have the lightness of curled locks," Melisande buried her in his hair. "Yet it has its own appeal."

"For what reason is this, Miss Lefevre?"

"I've always had the fascination for locks." Melisande pulled him closer to her. "But now I think its going to change."

Kiku will never grow tired watching her. "I would like to ask Melisande, if you very much like to kiss me?"

"I was hoping actually for you to say that."

Their kiss was chaste and sweet. It made them think of the future together. Of sunlit afternoons and moonlight dinners. Of children and diapers. Of burnt cookies and comforted hands. Of broken teacups and unmatched saucers. Of magnolias and lemons. Of picket fences and starched handkerchiefs. Of cold nights and blankets. Of warm days and tall lemonade.

"You really did built a ship of dreams."

"It is," Kiku twirled her around in his arms before he stopped. "I found you here after all."

"You are worth the wait, Mr. Honda. My search is over." Melisande touched his hand and brought it near her face. She looked at him straight in the eye, love brimming. "I've found you at last."

* * *

"Francis," the baroness took Francis' elbow. "Its Elizabeta."

"I guess that she's gone again, baroness?" Francis knew then that Elizabeta defied him. He'd taken it to mind to make sure Elizabeta would very much fear setting foot out of her room next time they'll see each other.

"Do you know where to find her?"

"I do, baroness but you must stay here," Francis assured as he tightened the ribbon in his neck. "The place where she is has enough filth that'll undoubtedly soil your beautiful gown."

* * *

Will Elizabeta heed his advice? Or will she stay with her mother and let herself be trap in a marriage he knows she doesn't want? He was a bundle of nerves tonight, trying to think over and over her words.

"Gilbert?"

He looked up and saw her then. "Elizabeta?"

"Quit sneaking around. Its creepy." She teased and a true smile shone in her face.

"Look Elizabeta, I just realized it in myself." Gilbert started, "I thought of it long and hard. Whatever you said this yesterday about spring fancies are wrong. I'm enchanted of you, Elizabeta Hedervary and its here to stay." Gilbert said in one breath.

"Hell, I think I love you."

Elizabeta took his words to her heart. "You do realize that I'm an engaged woman?"

"Yes, you are and I'm trying my best to let you see reason and make you love me too."

"Don't worry Gilbert," Elizabeta assured as she neared him. "I won't marry Francis." She took his hand. "I changed my mind."

"I wouldn't mind running away with you."

"Does that mean you also love me?" Gilbert asked, unsure what to feel.

"Yes." Elizabeta laughed. "Now, would you mind kissing me, Mr. Beilschmidt?"

"Don't mind if I do." He swooped her in his arms and gave her one.

* * *

"Nice night huh?" Feliks Łukasiewicz joined his friend Toris Laurinaitis as they cooped up cold in the small viewing area of the ship. "Yeah. However, it will make icebergs hard to see though."

"Woah, look at that Toris! A hot couple in this cold weather!" Toris eyed the spectacle from below. It was Elizabeta and Gilbert. "I, like, can't believe it."

But Toris' eyes are fixed on something else. "Feliks...that's..." He pointed the white gigantic iceberg in front of them. "Trouble!"

"An iceberg?" Feliks was unbelieving. "There was no warning?"

"Pick up, damn it!" Toris struggled over the control room phone where the captain was.

"There's an iceberg straight ahead!"

* * *

"Captain, the phone's ringing."

"Give it to me Feliciano."

Instead of a calm and composed voice meeting his ears, it was a loud one. "Iceberg right ahead!" Ludwig's eyes widened and signaled Feliciano in a shout. "Iceberg right ahead!"

Feliciano nodded and immediately took over controls. "Turn the wheel, quick! Reverse the engines!

Ludwig replied to Toris. "Keep me posted."

"Yes sir!"

"How many coals today Kirkland?"

A blonde man stopped and gave report, "516 coals consumed sir."

"If adding more coals can help, fill it even if its over 700."

"But sir..."

"We still have reserve on Hold 3."

He didn't hang the phone. "Feliciano, how are the propellers?"

"The rudder and wing propellers are working properly ever since the voyage."

Ludwig went back to Toris, "Are we turning?"

"No sir!"

Ludwig covered the receiver as he urgently ordered, "Have the Parsons turbine and two cylinder steam engines work in its full capacity!"

* * *

"Gilbert, did you hear that?" "What was that sound?

"It was ice near the railings," Gilbert shouted. "Elizabeta hold on to me."

* * *

Antonio was roused from his sleep the sound of scraped metal. "What was that?"

* * *

"Come on, come on." Arthur Kirkland muttered under his breath as he winced over the sharp noises the ice made on the starboard. He looked inside the ship's control room. Everyone was abuzz . "Why are we still hit?" He saw a familiar face. "Howard, what happened?"

"We are late in turning sir!"

"Oh, God."

* * *

"Where is she?" Francis Bonnefoy searched the F Deck. Suddenly, he lost his balance. Everyone around him stilled, wondering what happened.

* * *

"Hold on to me, Elise"

"Bache, what happened?"

"Don't worry Elise. This ship's crew will take care of it." He buttoned his coat over his sister's shoulders. "Its just a minor problem with the engine, that's all."

* * *

"What was that?" Kiku noticed his glass of champagne wobbling. He stood up.

Don't tell me...the ship's...

* * *

"We're hit, Captain..." Feliks' voice announced the news to Ludwig at the phone. "We were hit."

Feliciano's face exhibited shock. "Ludwig..."

"Feliciano, call Mr. Honda." Ludwig ordered as he hanged up the phone. "I believe the worst have come."

* * *

"The fifth compartment is already flooded, its too late to stop this." Kiku started to explain and dreaded every word he said. "Eventually water will get into all that weight this," Kiku pointed at his blueprints, indicating the structures. "This ship will flounder."

Feliciano nervously pointed out the common words, "But this ship can't sink!"

"It was reported to me by Mr. Kirkland that five compartments are already filled." Kiku donned his reading glasses and unrolled another blueprint. "We can survive with the first four compartments but not five." He emphasized to the captain. "Four, not five."

Kiku looked back at Feliciano and voiced the worst with finality. "She will. She is made of iron and she will sink. It is a physical certainty." He took off his glasses at last and said the words any sea captain would hate. "This ship will sink. Titanic will flounder."

"This ship will sink." Feliciano felt as if he just experienced a stroke of the broadsword across his knees.

"How much time?" Ludwig strived to stay calm, for everyone's sake.

There was a long pause. "An hour, two at most." Kiku replied as he stashed his papers away. Everyone looked at the captain. Everyone knew that despite his calm countenance, he was breaking inside.

"How many onboard?"

Beside him, Feliciano began taking calculations. "There are twenty lifeboats onboard, sixty people at most will fit on one, including the sailors, there's more than 2000 people on board..." He buried his face in his hands, unable to go on. The captain took his friend by the shoulders and had him sit down.

Ludwig decided to be strong. "Everyone you heard Mr. Honda. I want you all to start readying the boats now. Start emergency procedures as quietly as possible. I don't want our passengers to panic." His voice took steel and gained authority. "Inform them that it was only a mild difficulty. Have them line up in a queue when all boats are ready. Women and children first." Immediately, the crew started working after his instructions.

"Feliciano?" The captain looked at his friend who was trembling earlier. "Are you fine now?"

"Yes, Ludwig." Feliciano replied. "Its still unbelievable though. This is suppose to be our last trip together. Turned out it literally will be."

"This ship sinking," Ludwig eyed his friend. "Do you know what that means?" He righted his cap on his head and his eyes took light of determination over their impending doom. "...I believe you may get your headlines."

At those words, Feliciano's eyes took gleam. "I'm sorry Ludwig. I shouldn't have said that." He clenched his fists, wanting to hurt himself. "I shouldn't have said that."

"Feliciano, listen to me." Ludwig took Feliciano's shoulders, steadying him. "Do you remember when we are still children, we used to play paperboats in your backyard?" They both went down memory lane, trying to remember. "We always like to play during rainy days and we would make paperboats when the winds are strong. Whenever my boat would sink you will say, 'Its enough for both of us that yours are still floating!' and when its yours, I'll say the same thing."

"W-What," Feliciano took Ludwig's collar. "What are you trying to say?"

"This time is the same as that time: one of us would sink and the other still floating." The captain smiled at his childhood friend's face for the last time. "I want you to get on a boat and save yourself. Knowing you'll live, It'll give me courage at the coming hours."

"Ludwig..." Feliciano trailed off, not knowing what to say.

The captain stood up and motioned someone over. "Howard, make sure Feliciano has a boat to ride. Have Arthur report to me after he did so."

"Yes, captain." Howard guided Feliciano to the door.

"You've always been cowardly, Feliciano."

He tried resisting, "Wait...Ludwig!"

"Go fish a girl for me." He saluted and turned around, back to being the captain of the doomed Titanic. "You've done well, sailor."

* * *

"Mr. Honda," Arthur called to the naval architect who was walking at the corridor leading to his room. "Mr. Honda, is it true?" He stopped as he caught up to the man. "That Titanic...That this ship will..." He doesn't know what to say, taken by the shock. Kiku didn't need to give a reply: his whole dejected demeanor says it all.

"I wonder who said this ship is unsinkable." Kiku laughed bitterly.

"Mr. Honda..."

"You are Kirkland, yes?" Kiku faced him and inquired, "Arthur Kirkland?" Arthur nodded, confirming his full name.

"You're with the boilers?"

"I'm sorry sir." Arthur took his hat and apologized sincerely. "We turned away late from the iceberg."

"No," Kiku assured. "No one could've predicted the iceberg this night." He continued. "Fit as many as you can on the boats. The maximum are sixty, including the sailors."

"Yes sir." Arthur started to carry his orders.

"Wait, Arthur."

"Yes sir?"

Kiku asked, "Do you know a lady named Melisande Lefevre?"

"No sir."

"She is about my height and from first class." Kiku averted his eyes. "Have her ride on the safety boats immediately, you hear me?" Arthur prodded no further and understood immediately the urgency of the message. "It will be carried out sir."

Kiku was left alone the carpeted corridor that will later be swamped by the waters of the Atlantic. Melisande's sweet words from earlier came back in his mind's eye.

_ "You really did built a ship of dreams."_

_"My search is over." _

Kiku let out a huge sigh and leaned his weakened form at a wall. He buried his face on his palms. "_Kami-sama_, why now..."

_"I've found you at last."_

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Emma and Antonio. Elizabeta and Gilbert. Melisande and Kiku.

**So we're creating a crack pairing now? MonacoxJapan? - **Give me my own crack pairing. I'mseriousplz.

Besides, I think I fell in love with the same-height couple. Japan and Monaco. I tell you it was an accident.

This chapter is long but the last one will be longer. Its the last installment of my Titanic fanfiction. Just keep your reviews coming, and I'll be happy.

A reviewer asked what role would America and Canada play. America will be Captain Arthur Henry Rostron while Canada will be Harold Cottam, wireless operator of Carpathia. These two will help the survivors of Titanic.

Tragedy has struck. Next chapter's going to be a hard one. Its where all the drama begins afterall.

Enjoy reading.


	6. April 15, 1912: The First Sinking

**Titanic**

_They called her the ship of dreams... it was. It really was._

_April 15, 1912 _

_The First Sinking_

"CQD?...An SOS?" Lukas Bondevik read the paper his captain handed to him. Bertram Densen, his assistant wireless operator peered from his shoulder. "Why did we get these directions?"

They regarded their captain's face. Ludwig's brooding expression spoke possibilities of highly unanticipated news and in a split second, Lukas and Bertram felt a chill in their bones that doesn't have anything to do with the cold Atlantic temperature.

"Captain?"

"This ship...will sink." Ludwig mustered a breath and alongside it, his courage. He saw their surprised expressions. Outside his calm demeanor continued, but inside he was breaking. Ludwig continued gravely,

"Within two hours."

Before Ludwig turned around, he saw Densen's knuckles turn white: from gripping the paper he just handed a minute ago.

* * *

"Arrest that man!"

Gilbert and Elizabeta whirled around, recognizing at the same time the voice that issued the order. They saw Francis, his teeth bared, accompanied by an older man with furrowed brows.

"Francis! What are you doing?" Elizabeta exclaimed as a man with a pistol gun twisted Gilbert's arm, restraining the latter. Gilbert let out a pained gasp and cursed under his breath, "What the hell!"

"Let go of him!" Elizabeta tried hitting the man as she saw her beloved's face scrunch in agony. She turned to her fiance. "What are you doing, Francis!"

"I'm saving you from yourself Elizabeta," Francis remarked as he took Elizabeta's left hand. "This man," he indicated Gilbert as he reported to the officier, "...abducted my fiancee during the party earlier. His cause is the norm, of course. For scum like him couldn't restrain their wandering hands." Francis pulled Elizabeta to him and splayed a hand on her waist.

"He's careful not to show you his true colors, dear." Francis smiled at his fiancee's troubled expression as he patted Gilbert's pockets.

"Bastard! What are you-" Gilbert struggled but the master-at-arm's hold on him is firm. Francis paid no attention to the agitated Gilbert and continued searching the latter's pockets. As if by magic, a necklace of royal blue color appeared as he sneaked his hands inside one and Francis dangled it triumphantly in front of his fiance.

"I believe this is yours, _mon petite_?"

Elizabeta stared at the necklace and unconsciously touched her neck. "The heart of the ocean... How?" She was wearing the necklace earlier but decided to stash it in the pocket of her dress. Why would Gilbert..

"Indeed." Francis nodded and eyed Gilbert. "Now, why would he have it?"

Elizabeta looked at Gilbert, her eyes unbelieving. "You...you..."

_"Hell, I think I love you."_

Elizabeta clasped her hands together. "Gilbert..."

"Do you truly love me?"

"Damn, why are you doubting me now!" Gilbert barked, a wrong move in his part, but frustrations are mounting up. Why is Elizabeta questioning him now?

"You know I wouldn't do this to you!" He looked at Francis who was smirking on the sidelines. "You asshole! You're turning Elizabeta against me!"

"My, my," Francis flicked his wrist. "Such accusation. Uncouth best describes this behavior."

_I know I'm doubting everything. But Gilbert... he never had everything in his life. _

_I... don't know anymore._

"Elizabeta, I didn't!" Gilbert shouted, creating a ruckus. Elizabeta love, please listen to me. "I didn't steal it! I didn't know why in the first place there was a necklace in my pocket, but believe me I didn't steal it!"

Gilbert kept on calling Elizabeta. She dared not make an eye contact with her lover.

"I didn't even know you have a necklace in the first place!"

Gilbert saw that Elizabeta was confused, disillusioned.

"Elizabeta! Believe me! Trust my words! In God's name its the truth!"

_Sweetheart, believe me. Don't let him do this to us!_

"Elizabeta, I love you!"Gilbert shouted.

Just when the words she long waited to hear again was given, the command was issued.

"Take him away." Francis ordered. A salute was given, an intention of carrying the order evident. Elizabeta wasn't able to see the sincerity in Gilbert's eyes a she was left shocked and rooted to the ground, not knowing what to say as the master-at-arms towed an angry Gilbert away.

* * *

Francis dragged an unfocused Elizabeta into the crowd of mixed class passengers. From a distance she heard...

"Women and children first!"

"This way ma'am! Be careful of your step!"

"Sir! You are not allowed!"

"I'm a first-class passenger! Make way!"

She was only gone for thirty minutes with Gilbert, what could've happened in such short notice? Elizabeta remembered the sound of metal meeting ice from below the deck where she and Gilbert met. Could all this have any relation to that? She and Francis met with the Baroness in one of the boats.

"Elizabeta, dear God." The Baroness dared curse as she saw her daughter's state of dress. "Not a scant of suitable clothing in this cold weather!" She guided her daughter toward a boat. "Here, let's go now, dear."

"W-What...what's happening?"

"The ship is doomed, miss." A man over six feet answered her questions. She looked up and saw indigo pools deep and mesmerising. He was tall and judging from his thick coat, muscular.

"What do you mean sir?" Elizabeta slowly took a seat and seeing that the boat still need occupants, decided to converse with the burly man standing near.

"Titanic's been hit. An iceberg to be specific, miss."

"Do you mean..." Elizabeta's eyes wandered. "...the sound earlier was the ship crashing?"

The man nodded and retrieved something from his satchel. "I have sisters in Iowa. This is their favorite wine, its very important." The wine is wrapped in a white cloth, "Could you give it to them?" He searched for something in one pocket of his trousers. A folded paper.

"This letter too..."

Elizabeta received them with trembling hands. "Why are you giving them to me?"

The man flashed a sad smile. "It seems, I won't be able to deliver them myself."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **We all know who the big man is, right?

I'm back!

Though I said that I'll put Titanic on hold, your excitement for the next chapter had me typing the next chapter. However, its too long and I'm afraid number of words and long passages of texts will bore my readers and so, to ease you lovely readers and reviewers of waiting, I am going to update the story. The _April 15, 1912 _Chapter will be divided though into many 'sinkings' or chapters. Though not updated on April 15, I am confident that the last arc of the story is so long it will reach the April 15 of next year.

I've read the reviews and indeed, some of the characters became too OOC. I, myself find errors with the traits I placed in their person in this story. Reading this story that I wrote four months ago, made me realize that I need to reconstruct the last arc, to steer clear from thee original plan so that I can still keep the characters' original attitudes. Thank you for the unending support! I will try my best not to commit too much grammar and language errors. The story will be proofread to perfection after being completed.

Worries be gone! Titanic **will continue and be updated in a regular basis**. It will be updated at best once in two weeks, a month at most. Project **Blind Date Blues **will be updated then after the Titanic.

Enjoy reading!


	7. April 15, 1912: The Second Sinking

**Titanic**

_They called her the ship of dreams... it was. It really was._

_April 15, 1912 _

_The Second Sinking_

"Antonio! Are you alright?" Lovino opened the door of his friend's room. The hallways are flooded ankle-deep. The temperature of the water must've been less than fifteen degrees. Lovino however, paid these details no mind as he forced his way. He found the Antonio crouched to the floor, trying his best to retrive his satchel and starched shirts. Antonio noticed Lovino and stood up, his face traced with tired and heavy lines.

"You alright?" Lovino inquired and offered to lift Antonio's things.

"I don't know" Antonio appreciated the gesture and allowed the younger man to carry his satchel. "I woke up because of some noise earlier and this is what I see." A white sheet of creased paper lying-face down on the water caught his attention. "Dios mio." Antonio reached it and dried his hands on his trousers. It was Gilbert's portrait of his parents. "There goes Gilbert's sketch."

"Speaking of Gilbert," Lovino looked around, "...where is he?"

Antonio refolded the drawing and tucked it in his pocket. "I guess he isn't back yet."

"I hope he's safe."

"Lovino!" Emma barged in, her voice breathless from trudging the halls. She and her brother already packed their things. She asked Lovino to check Antonio. Worried, she herself followed. "Did you find Antonio?"

"I'm here!" Antonio raised both of his arms. Seeing Emma gave Antonio an immense feeling of relief. He's glad she's safe and sound. It must be love, he thought as he engulfed her in his arms, finding comfort in the crocus and lemon of her hair.

The same goes for Emma and she was unable to stop herself from embracing Antonio tighter. "I'm glad you're safe!" She smiled and pressed her fingers on the nape where Antonio's untamed curls wildly wounded with her.

Lovino smiled at the scene before he gently broke it. "Let's all go now. I have a feeling we need to be at higher ground at best."

* * *

"Excuse me!" Melisande tried calling the attention of a passing ship officer as she tightened her hold on her shawl. She bumped with passengers left and right. Of different classes but of the same cursed plight albeit unknown by most. "Excuse me sir!"

Melisande was with Kiku hours ago and they parted with a kiss. However, after taking a thirty-minute nap, she was roused from sleep due to the clamor she kept hearing outside her room. She opened her passenger door and a mob of passenger greeted her on sight. This surprised Melisande. What's going on?

"Excuse me!"

Arthur Kirkland turned around, responding to the call. Now that there is no need to operate the boilers, he was tasked by his captain to help direct the passengers to safer grounds.

"Yes miss?"

"What's happening?" Melisande inquired as she paused for a while to don her glasses. "Why are the hallways filled with passengers? I don't believe we docked yet."

"Quite the contrary miss," Arthur replied as he motioned for the both of them to not go against the current of people. The confused lady complied and as they walked, her query is answered. "The engines broke down and the captain has implemented emergency procedures."

"Can't it be fixed?"

"Will take a long time miss." A lie. Arthur very well know that all effort of saving the engines are futile. The ship's naval architect himself declared Titanic will flounder. Still, he has to paste a calm and composed countenance and assure the passengers. "The boats are to be readied to accommodate all passengers."

Arthur paused for a while to take a good look on Melisande. He saw a beautiful woman in a frilled nightdress, a shawl on her shoulders. She's smaller than the other lady passengers he encountered from first class. Words from a memory tinkered in front of his mind's eye:

_"She is about my height and from first class." _

"Are you..." he paused, hesitating, "... Miss Lefevre by chance?"

"Yes," Surprise flashed in Melisande's eyes she recognized her family name. "Actually I am."

_"Have her ride on the safety boats immediately, you hear me?"_

Remembering the private order, Arthur immediately took the chance handed to him. Without leave, he took Melisande's arm gently but firm and half-dragged, half-walked with her behind him. Without offering any explanation, he shouted to be given room and they reached the Boat Deck faster than the other passengers. Melisande was still recovering from shock when Arthur had her take a seat on a boat deposited on the side of the ship.

"Women and children first," Arthur reminded the anxious passengers crowding the Boat Deck. "Men will be next. Please wait as you are." Kirkland tapped a fellow officer. "Howard, make sure the boats are filled."

Howard gave a nod. Arthur turned to the speechless Miss Lefevre.

"Miss Lefevre?"

"Who..." Melisande gulped, not knowing what to say at all. "Who told you to save me?"

Arthur gave a sad smile. "I believe you'll broke down in tears if I'll answer your question."

* * *

"You play Paganini's La Campanella with light fingers."

Roderich Edelstein, amateur violinist who only held a selected number of concerts looked up to see the admiring gaze of Titanic's captain. He gave a smile and Roderich bowed at the compliment, accepting the pleasantry which he seldom hear. Sometimes, people listen to his music because it is what their station demands them to listen to, as what the nobles frequently do.

"You are Mr. Edelstein?"

"Yes, I am." Roderich lightly inhaled air. He was practicing in his room when the captain himself, Ludwig, knocked on his door to request some classical music. Roderich is surprised at first, not considering that he and his band captured a few admiring hearts."What else can I play for you, Captain?"

A list of compositions passed over the musician's head. "You chose an Italian composer. Since you're German, perhaps Beethoven or Mozart though they're Austrian will interest you?"

Ludwig gave a laugh. "I believe they're German, Mr. Edelstein."

"Austrian."

The German prodded no further but asked, "Do you know the music that comforts a soul?"

It is Roderich's turn to stare at the man. He sensed a level of despondency that reaches the depths of the psyche. A gloom that penetrated Ludwig's heart, highly likely concerning the plight of the vessel.

"It is hope."

Ludwig's blue met Roderich's lavender. "What?"

"The composition will be aptly called 'hope'."

Ludwig gave a small smile. "Is that so?"

"Well then," Ludwig stood up and patted Roderich's shoulder. "Would you mind playing hope for us Mr. Edelstein?"

No other answer is needed. "Not at all Captain."

* * *

**Author's Notes: ** Dear readers, please pray for me and my family.

While writing this, we just received news that the creek near our village have overflowed, resulting to the unwarranted flooding of our streets. I'm currently trapped with my family inside our home and we're dreading the rise of the water after each hour. Please hope for our safety.

In parallel to the current plight of our third class passengers, the water in our place is already thigh-deep.

I wrote of the situations of our beloved side characters.

Enjoy reading.


	8. April 15, 1912: The Third Sinking

**Titanic**

_They called her the ship of dreams... it was._

_It really was._

_April 15, 1912_

_The Third Sinking_

* * *

Elizabeta looked at all the people in the deck. The big man who gave her his wine and letter is now gone, pushed by the desperate crowd away from her view. All kinds of passengers alike be it first class or third class, the fear is evident in everyone's eyes. They're all aboard the doomed Titanic and not everyone would have the chance to survive.

It have always bugged her on how the papers could've said that Titanic is an unsinkable ship. Isn't it when you want to test something if it is indeed unsinkable, you will try to sink it at best? Just like with paper boats. As a child you will prod a paperboat, testing how long it will withstand the weight of a finger above and the water it is floating on below.

From the corner of her eyes, Elizabeta saw a little girl and an old man. The man is seated atop his luggage with the girl on his lap. Judging from the looks of it, they could only be a grandfather and his granddaughter, lost amidst the chaos and doesn't know what to do.

The contrast is dramatic: an old person, nearing the end of his life and had seen all there is to see together with a young child who'd never seen anything at all. Yet, they're both going to meet the same fate. Elizabeta closed her eyes and scolded herself for her macabre thoughts.

Out of the blue, she heard a woman's scream.

* * *

"No please. I don't want to get on the boat." Melisande pleaded as she struggled with Arthur's hold on her arm. "I have to go see Kiku." A crowd gathered on the sidelines, eyeing the first class beauty and the man from the boilers.

"Miss Lefevre, it is Mr. Honda's wish for you to be on this boat." Arthur said, uneasy with the busybodies. "I am to carry that order."

"Consider that order null. I have to see him!"

"Miss, a lot of people would like to trade places with you right now. Please don't make it difficult for me." Arthur felt his patience wearing thin. "Please do get on the boat."

Melisande is adamant to not get on the boat. She knew that Kiku is currently blaming himself. This is not a normal engine failure. Titanic have crashed. Judging the ship's staff, the panic is obvious through tried to be repressed.

"Mel?"

Melisande heard her nickname and turned around, seeing Elizabeta.

"Liz."

Arthur, sensing that the two knows each other, let go of Melisande's arm but eyed his charge still.

"Mel, what happened?"

"Oh Liz, it's horrible." Melisande buried her face in her hands. Trying her best not to cry. "Kiku's trying to save me. Asked someone to get me a boat to ride. But I can't leave him. I just can't." She started sobbing, because of her and Kiku's plight, because of the timing of everything. It was supposed to be a wonderful night. It was to end wonderfully. Not like this. Not like this at all.

"For the love of God Melisande, you're causing a scene!"

Elizabeth saw Francis emerging from the crowd. He tried grabbing Melisande's arm but Arthur stopped him.

"Excuse me sir but I have orders. I am to get this lady on one of the lifeboats."

"Then let me help you officer." Francis smiled. "I am a friend of this lady."

Arthur looked at Francis then at Melisande. 'Is it true madame?"

Melisande nodded. Arthur backed away and Francis assisted his childhood friend to the boat.

"Calm down. This is not like you. What are you getting worked up for?" Francis whispered as he walked his friend.

"I'm not a child anymore Francis that you can comfort with roses coming out of my ears or chocolates that magically appears in my pockets." Melisande whispered back. She hadn't told about Francis anything about her and Kiku.

"It's just the crowd." She seated herself with the other women on the boat, a boat different from where Elizabeta and the baroness is in, devising a plan of escape she will execute later. Arthur is still watching her like a hawk.

* * *

_Not a child anymore Francis that you can comfort…_

_Comfort with roses coming out of my ears…_

_Or chocolates that magically appears…_

_Magically appears in my pockets…_

"You bastard!" Elizabeta's voice rose a notch. "It's you wasn't it? You're the one who put the necklace on Gilbert's pockets when both of us weren't looking. You lying bastard!"

"Elizabeta! What on earth is with that language?" The Baroness looked at Francis, who just got back in their boat's side then to Elizabeta. A multitude of whispers erupted from all within ear-shot on the boat. Hearing them, the baroness became afraid at they're saying and if the engagement between the rich young man and her imbecile daughter is now dissolved.

"Admit it. It's you. I heard what Mel said. Didn't know you had the talent." Elizabeta crossed her arms, her eyes hard.

"I did it to save you from yourself Elizabeta." Francis said simply as if laying out the simplest of facts. "You love the man? Can you just imagine the life you'll have with him? No big house, no clothes for you. You'll be pitiful _mon petite_."

"Why you pompous bastard…" Elizabeta unable to contain her boiling rage, stood up, tore the necklace from her neck and threw it to her fiance. "Here, you can have the necklace. Compared to Gilbert, you're a piece of scum."

"Scum? Me? You call me, Francis Bonnefoy a scum?" Francis' voice is sarcastic and malicious. "Why you slandering bitch. And what can you knight-in-shining –suspenders give you? You're nothing without me!"

The baroness looked at the both of them and can't believe her ears. What's happening to these two? Did Elizabeta just call her fiancé a bastard and Francis called her daughter a bitch?

"Why, he is enough to make me happy. Now that is priceless." Elizabeta spat at him and got off the boat. "I don't love you. I'm going where he is. Now if you'll excuse-" Francis grabbed Elizabeta's wrist before she can take another step.

"Where are you going? To him? To that gutter rat?" His grip on her wrist is the kind that can make one wince but Elizabeta wouldn't dare back down from him. With all the force she can muster with her free hand, Elizabeta slapped Francis on the cheek. The strike was strong for a woman her size and Francis had to stagger from the impact. It was all the baroness could do not to faint and the onlookers' tongues to stop wagging.

"I'd rather be his whore than be your wife."

From behind her she heard a sailor shout that the boat is ready to go down. With Francis still reeling from her blow, Elizabeta forced Francis' hand to let go of her wrist. Without any remorse, Elizabeta turned her back on the baroness and ex-fiance.

"Goodbye mother."

"Wait," The baroness was in shock couldn't find it in herself to stand up but she tried to call for her daughter, the boat going down slowly drowning her calls. "Get in the boat, Elizabeta!"

"Elizabeta!"

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Updating Titanic again till I reach my target date of April 15, 2013. Thank you for the support and reviews. One reason for the very long delay of update is my adjusting in college. I was an incoming freshman and I admit I had a hard time blending in into the culture and the new environment. However, right now I'm currently in vacation so there will be no more reason for delays. Possible that will also write new stories for the Hetalia fandom.

** dance in storm** - I am so sorry for the long wait. -bows- I think it will take six/seven more chapters before it ends. :)

** The Animanga Girl** - I hope you'll do well in your exams :)

** andy-chan24** - I can't imagine Roderich being the villain in a PrusHun fanfiction. Personally, I think he's a softie. I find the friendship relationship of Ludwig and Feliciano refreshing and appropriate for the fanfiction that's why I took that angle. Glad you liked it. :)

** MidnightShining** - Sorry about the French. I will copy read the whole story after finishing it. New chapters throughout the week :)

** Canada Cowboy** - I'm glad you liked the story. I'm aiming for the plot and the characters to go well naturally. Actually deviating from some plans because I found tiny faults in my original storyline. Your review is very much appreciated. :)

** Anonymous reviewers and others** – I'm back and thank you very much for the love :)

Next Titanic update on **Friday/Saturday**.

Enjoy reading.


	9. April 15, 1912: The Fourth Sinking

Titanic

_They called her the ship of dreams... it was._

_It really was._

_April 15, 1912_

_The Fourth Sinking_

* * *

Abel just finished packing the necessary documents and few other clothes in his and Emma's satchels when he heard a sniffle at their room's door. A little boy about ten years old with wheat- colored hair and light freckles was scratching his eyes, trying his best not to cry. On his right arm is a little book.

"Boy, are you lost?"

The boy looked at Abel with a mournful look then nodded. Abel is torn what to do. Should he leave the boy alone and get on to meet Emma on Antonio and Lovino's room or help the child and simply leave a note informing Emma to meet him on the upper deck?

He chose to do the latter.

* * *

Francis followed with his gaze his fiance's disappearing back amidst the crowd; surprised with Elizabeta's nerve to stand up to his challenge and fully make a commotion. He thought she'll go back to her docile self just as what she is the past few days.

He touched his cheek, still throbbing from the impact of Elizabeta's blow. He couldn't believe that he lost once again in life, something the Bonnefoy in him can't stand. He lost once before in getting something that he wants. He couldn't believe it happened again.

Francis' sure as hell he didn't love Elizabeta, but she reminds him of someone, someone he knew back them that drifted away from him. Without caring for the Baroness (whose boat she is in now down in the ocean waters of the Atlantic), Francis Bonnefoy lighted a cigarette and leaned on one good rail, reminiscing a memory from two years ago…

* * *

"Lukas, I've received news." Bertram faced his companion and reported, "I had contact with a ship and they said they can be here at four hours."

Lukas leveled his tired eyes with Bertram. They're been busy for the last twenty minutes, trying their best to contact ships near to come to their rescue. "Four hours?"

Bertram nodded, understanding the unsatisfied expression on Lukas' face. "I-I'll try again."

"That you do. There has to be another ship somewhere that can come faster." Lukas turned back to his desk and punched buttons, determined to save all the people in their care.

* * *

_Twenty-one-year-old Francis Bonnefoy looked at the love if his life with a bouquet of roses in one hand and his heart on his sleeve. It is one sunny afternoon of April in 1910 and the young man traveled all the way from Paris. Today is an important day._

"_Leave the vocation and marry me." Francis smiled and handed the bouquet to Sister Jeanne. They've been friends since childhood. She's the daughter of the Bonnefoy household's cook. "Please say you'll do and marry me Jeanne."_

_Instead of a happy expression, in Jeanne's face is fear. She looked at the roses for a while before handing it back to its giver. "I am flattered by your affections Francis, but I'm a nun. I chose God."_

_Francis touched the roses with a trembling finger. He knows she's a nun. How could he forget? He'd always looked at her from his window. Sister Jeanne with her habit and the little children flocking around her. But before there's the nun, there had always been the girl back in his boyhood days. The one who fish with him and sleep with him under the open sky whenever his family stays at their villa in Nice. The girl with untamed curls and toothy grin. The girl he'd fallen in love with and is now a woman._

_"Is it a mortal sin to fall in love with a nun?"_

_Jeanne didn't know what to say. Her eyes are despondent. "But it is a mortal sin for a nun to fall in love with a man." It was a whisper of an answer._

_Francis prodded on. "I love you. I know I'm trying to take you away from God but I love you. You make me happy. I want to be happy, for the rest of my life."_

_Jeanne bit her lip. Thinking of something she can do to stop Francis from trying. Her decision to serve the Lord is firm. He had to know that._

_Francis took her small hand with his big one, clasped them tight. "I swear I will never hurt you. I will always be with you. Please…please say you'll go with me." His grip unconsciously hardened, probably because he is desperate to hear another answer. Not only did Jeanne winced did he let go._

"_I-I'm sorry."_

"_Please don't make it hard for me Francis. Go away."_

"_But Jeanne-"_

"_Please. I chose God. You have to accept that."_

_Francis is taken aback. They say that you have to fight for the one you love but how would you fight if the supreme and omnipotent God is your rival? He'd been born in a family immensely wealthy. He could have anything his heart desires. But this one girl, this one woman he love, he can't have even if he's going to trade all his fortunes for her. Hurt and angry, his heart bruised in ways he'd just known, he decided to spite Jeanne with words._

_"Fine. My father would never have approved of you anyway."_

_At that comment Jeanne winced and she looked at herself. Rough hands. Plain face. Untamed curls. __"Indeed."_

"_There are lots of women who would die to have me. Have me kiss them, touch them-" _

_"Enough! Please stop! I don't want to hear!" __Jeanne pressed her hands on her ears and rushed back to the house where the other sisters are staying.__ That day of April, a woman was crying with her back on the door and there's a man outside screaming with rage, bloodying his hands with roses. _

_That was the last time they saw each other._

* * *

"Mr. Honda, ah, thank God I found you!"

Kiku turned sharply after hearing his name. The sight of a very tired and trembling Eilzabeta greeted him. "Thank God I found you! Tell me Mr. Honda, where would the master-at-arms take someone under arrest?"

Mr. Honda is puzzled. What is Miss Hedervary's reason why she's still not at the upper deck? "What, you have to get to a boat right away!" He took hold of Elizabeta's arm and guided her to the stars leading to where the lifeboats are.

"No, no!" Elizabeta struggled and managed to get free. "Please tell me! If you don't, I'll search myself."

"Miss Hedervary, you have to get on a lifeboat right now. The F deck is already flooded and the E deck has waters thigh-deep already."

"Please!" Elizabeta took a step back to avoid a grasping hand. "Please I need to know. Someone's stuck down there. I need your help."

As how Kiku views it, it must be a matter of great importance. No one in their right mind would dare go to flooded decks just to save someone. It must be someone important.

"Take the elevator to the very bottom."

"Thank you Mr. Honda." Elizabeta is ready to take a sprint on the almost-empty hallway when Kiku called out after her.

"Ms. Hedervary?"

"Elizabeta."

"Elizabeta, how's..." Kiku paused, "How's Melisande?"

"Mr. Honda..."Elizabeta stopped in her tracks and understood the emotional turmoil going on inside the young architect's mind. It'll be a comfort to him to know someone he cares for is alright.

"Mr. Honda... she's safe."

It was all the words he need as Kiku gave a sad smile and breathed a small thank you.

* * *

**Author's Notes**: Next Titanic update on **Monday/Tuesday.**

Enjoy reading.


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